


Fashion Forward

by Dark_Svengali (Svengali_Khan)



Series: Fashion Forward [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover Pairings, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svengali_Khan/pseuds/Dark_Svengali
Summary: *This work is written according to guidelines laid down by a commissioner and used with their approval.*In an effort to relieve his boredom and shake up life as C.E.O. of WayneTech, Timothy Drake-Wayne begins to look outside the boardroom for ways to liven up his life. A chance encounter at a photoshoot for a high-profile magazine, he meets the owner of a multi-national conglomerate and is taken with Draco Malfoy from the start. This provides more than a few problems but ones he is all too willing to endure.





	1. Fashion Forward: The Photo Shoot

**Author's Note:**

> * This work is completed and is being edited to fit the narrative presented. The original commission contained scenes specific to the commissioner, some of which have been deleted. I will attempt to update this work every two-three weeks as the edits are finished.
> 
> Also note, some *SPOILERS* might occur if too many things are tagged or sorted so the ones included here will be the only ones I have for this story. Just read on and enjoy the ride! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!

From his office, Tim Drake looked out over the half of Gotham City facing the pier. On the other side of the vast body of water, the rest of the world began. It was a metaphor for how he felt, parts of the world were always in view but out of reach. In spite of the sunlight streaming in, he felt the dark creeping in around the edges. Everything about his life seemed tinged with it.

"Sir, your one o'clock is here."

Never was the voice at the door more grating than when he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Still, his life he chose meant the time he had was not always his own. He turned away from the glass with a heavy sigh. Dressed in a tailored blue suit, his handsome assistant also wore a sympathetic expression.

"Can I ask you a question, Jacob?" Tim said, coming around his desk. "Does this ever get so tedious for you that you want to fling yourself off the roof?"

"Every day brings new challenges. My cranky boss is always sending me for coffee he could make himself and asking me stupid questions about whether I want to sky-dive from the roof of a thirty-story building without a parachute. Always something new, sir."

Tim smiled, thankful for the bit of levity. "Does it ever tire you out, being a world-class smart-ass?"

"If it did, I wouldn't be so good at it. Should I let your appointment in or should we discuss the possibilities of your leaping from the roof a bit more?"

"Let them in. Also, if you want to maintain your reputation as a resident miracle worker, find me something fun to do tomorrow. I don't care what it is as long as it gets me out of the office for a few hours and away from all this."

"I'll see what I can do," the young man said, adding a knowing smile. "Some warning, you're going to want to brace yourself for this one."

Instead of fleeing back behind his desk, Tim slid both hands into his pockets and stood his ground. The door closed behind his assistant, allowing him a few minutes to himself. He needed to shift from daydreaming of escape to work mode. Moments later, the door burst open to admit a woman big enough to tear the thing from its hinges, in spite of her small stature. She stood just over five foot, two inches tall with a sleek, asymmetrical haircut and a brilliant stripe of jungle green in her black hair. The high heels she wore added four-and-a-half inches to her height but took away from the electric blue pantsuit she wore. Both arms were open as she came through the door.

"Darling! I cannot tell you how long I have waited to take this meeting with you! We are going to create so many good things together! I just know it!"

"Ms. Klein, good to meet you," Tim said, offering a hand.

"None of this _Ms. Klein_ business, Timothy! I insist you call me, Velvet!" She rushed forward, taking him into a constrictor-like hug. "Let's get things started, shall we?"

Choking on her perfume, Tim did not have time to hug her back before the woman let go of him and moved to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Knowing it was best not to argue, he took a seat and gave her his undivided attention.

"Now, the software we're going to need has to be versatile enough to last through two years without update. People do not want to be updating all the time when there is so much life to be lived."

Tim wanted to agree so he nodded, but could not find this life she spoke of. "We can engineer software that updates itself."

"Too invasive! No, we need a sort of subtleness lost to the world, today. I'm sure, someone of your caliber and temperament understands subtlety."

"I understand it, I just don't know if it applies to software. You're wanting your product to stay current. In order to do that, you're going to need to have an aggressive edge and you're going to want to keep your edge as your company grows."

"Darling, I always have the edge!"

"Waynetech means to make sure you keep it."

Velvet Klein let out a long peel of throaty laughter. "I knew you would see things my way, Timothy! Together, we are going to make Klein a name in fashion!"

Thinking of the label in his own suit, Tim smiled but said nothing. The new seller's app he was developing for the _Velvet Klein Fashion House_ would mean global exposure for the company and for him. He knew not to kick a gift horse in the face. Instead of correcting her logistical fallacy, he let her continue on, telling him about her vision for what the app could do. Most of what she wanted was not possible but he did have to hand it to her, she had vision.

***

Perched on the head of an angry gargoyle, Nightwing watched the shady trio of men enter the corner market down below. No car on the street meant they would not be making a quick getaway, if their plan was to rob the place. If they were there to shop, they did not need one of the wire baskets by the front door, nor did they stop to browse the magazines there, as well.

"Five to one they're going to boost some beer," he said, watching the trio through slim-lined binoculars. "They can't be twenty-one, even with their ages combined."

"Like you never boosted beer when you were underage."

"I was drinking wine at dinner while being underage, Little Bird." 

"Do you _have_ to call me that?"

 "No. I could think of a dozen other things I could call you. This is just the nicest, at the moment." Nightwing turned toward the other occupant of the roof. "What the hell is wrong with you, anyway? You've been testy and short all night."

"A new client at work, the same old thing. They want me to do the impossible and then they get angry when I can't. Just a lot of pressure, is all."

"You have to learn to let things like this go. It's the life you chose, after all. Nobody forced you into corporate work, you chose it for yourself."

"I know I did but it's such a grind, these last few days. I just need some time away, to adjust myself and see if I can't find something to smile about again."

"You need to find someone to share your bed with a few nights a week," Nightwing said, focusing back on the market and the mysterious shoppers. "It would do you some good to release some hormones. It would do the rest of us some good, as well."

"I don't think I want to know what you mean by that."

"No. You don't." After a pause, he stood up. "It's go-time. Punk number one just dropped a forty into his jacket and punk number two is talking up the cashier to cover for him."

"Back alley?"

Nightwing smiled. "Oh, yeah! I want to test out my best Bat-voice!"

Both leapt from the rooftop and fell several stories before extending their cables to catch their falls. Nightwing took the back portion of the street, arriving in the alleyway just as the would-be robbers did the same. The first fell with a well-timed bolo. Red Robin stopped the second with a sweeping motion of his legs, toppling the crook. Nightwing was waiting, arms crossed and a stern look on his face, when the last thief reached him.

"Forty in a bottle isn't worth forty behind bars, young man."

Red Robin groaned. "That was terrible."

Nightwing shrugged. "It was all I could come up with. Performance anxiety, what can I say?"

"Are you guys going to arrest me now?" The kid asked, holding out the beer. "It was for my older brother, not for me."

"We're not going to arrest you but you're not keeping the beer, either. You and your friends are going to take it back and apologize to Mr. Martz for ripping him off!"

"Or, we call your parents," Red Robin added. "Steve."

"How do you guys know my name?"

Nightwing chuckled. "It's on the back of your shirt, genius."

"Not the best thing to wear to a robbery," the other hero said, also chuckling. "You and your friends need to return the beer and call it a day, Steve."

Several minutes later, the three young people recovered from their having been detained. Nightwing and Red Robin escorted them inside where they returned the stolen beer and apologized. Afterward, they left on their way home, leaving the heroes standing outside the market.

"You need to get a hobby," Nightwing said. "Something to occupy your mind. It'll help."

"My assistant is working on this."

"Do you even hear yourself? Your _assistant_ is working on a hobby for you?"

"You're right. I'm pathetic."

The older male put a hand on the other's shoulder. "You're not pathetic. You're in a very deep rut. You need to find a way to get yourself out of it."

"I'm not saying I disagree. Maybe something will come along soon."

***

Stepping off the elevator, Tim was met with an abundance of noise. Hammers, machinery, and the steady pounding of head after the walk to his office. Just outside the door, dressed in heather gray pants, a lilac shirt, and dark violet vest, his assistant was straightening the knot of a white tie. He held up a hand as Tim approached him.

"Before you say anything, I have to tell you, she got here even before I did. In fact, I found her in there when I went in to deliver the _Planet_. Second, the work on the foyer will be done soon. The work up here, however, will take about a week. It can't be helped."

"Morning, Jacob," Tim said, raising an eyebrow. "Who got here before you did?"

Ahead of the other man could answer, a loud bang echoed through the upper floor. Without knowing what it was, Tim thought he could guess. This became his priority, driving him to walk into the almost-destroyed lobby area, his assistant following behind him.

"Oh, my..."

"I told you, it could not be helped," the assistant said. "The work order came from Bruce Wayne."

"Did he happen to say why?"

"The R and D department is being restructured so the other portion on this floor is being converted to offices. They're moving the whole finance department up one floor, as well."

"Damn. This will take a week?"

Another loud bang, the result of a second section of wall being removed, sounded. Instead of coming down in pieces, it came down as one solid slab. Precise demolition was a marvel for Tim, but it was noisy. Already, the fuses around a larger rectangle were being lit in two places. All of the lobby furnishings were gone, the floor littered with debris and dust. The regular elevator to the outside was cordoned off by two pieces of clear, thick plastic.

"One other thing? You have three hours of _something different_ this afternoon, starting at twelve thirty. You're supposed to get there by one and I suggest showering before you go."

Tim turned to face the young man, a bewildered look on his face. "Showering?"

"Also, you might want to make sure you're wearing underwear. You'll be taking your pants off."

"Taking my...pants off?"

"Timothy! Darling!" Velvet Klein's voice broke through the noise. She floated toward him, an eclectic blend of fuchsia, white, and bright blue. "I have been waiting forever! I brought over the design for the app and a few sketches to implement into the introduction screens! I also brought bagels!"

"Right," Tim said, dreading the rest of the morning. "Jacob, would you make sure we're not disturbed for the next few hours? You'll need to push back Victor Stone and the man from Westchester. I can see them first thing tomorrow."

"Already done." The young man said. "Remember, you need to be out of here by twelve-thirty. I've already given the address to your driver."

"Uh...driver?"

"Mr. Pennyworth insisted on taking you."

"He knows what this is all about and I don't?"

"I thought you might need some persuasion, so I took the liberty."

"Of course you did." He turned in toward the other male. "In two hours, come and rescue me with news of an urgent phone call. I'm serious – _do not_ leave me in there with this woman until lunch!"

"You can count on me."

Resigned to his fate, Tim allowed himself to be led back to his office by the gabbing, gossiping woman in the fuchsia and blue suit. She kept him occupied for the next hour and a half, leaving him half an hour to collect his thoughts before his assistant showed in another, less vocal, client. This was, by far, the easiest meeting of the morning, lasting only thirty minutes. Free to tie up any other loose ends, he returned the morning phone calls, then slipped into his private washroom to do as his assistant suggested. Once his shower was complete and he was dressed again, he gathered a few things and departed. On the way out, the well-dressed assistant gave him one final word of advice.

"Don't wear your _I'm a businessman_ face. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!"

Puzzled, he continued on to the elevator. Behind the plastic partitions, the noise level dropped by an easy two decibels. While waiting for the doors, he noticed the pieces missing from the wall now taking shape into office doors and doorways into other areas. Bruce was always making these kinds of snap decisions and, as a rule, he did not mind. This one, however, cut into his part of the business and affected his clients. A little notice would have been nice. The doors opened before he could begin to fume on this.

Outside, beside a stylish, non-descript car, Alfred Pennyworth struck an elegant figure in a traditional double-breasted chauffeur's uniform and hat. A tip of the hat greeted Tim as he came out of the revolving door of Wayne Enterprises. Tim smiled, the first in some time.

"Good to see you, Alfred! It's been a while."

"Twenty-two days, eleven hours, and a scattering of minutes, Master Drake."

"Drake-Wayne," Tim corrected him.

The man took hold of the door and opened it. "You should really decide one way or the other, sir. Either you want to hold onto who you were or embrace who you are." He raised an eyebrow, almost challenging opposing comment.

"You know where I'm going?"

"I haven't a clue," the man said, his voice even. "I've only just donned this uniform and took up the service of driving young men to their appointments. Please – enlighten me as to our destination."

Tim got into the back seat, realizing the man's attempt at sarcasm. "Just drive, old man!"

"Very well," Alfred said, closing the door. "I shall endeavor not to collide with any of the many buildings lining the sidewalk."

The ride to their destination took half an hour. Alfred opened the door again to reveal a renovated warehouse with banks of new windows and a fresh coat of khaki-colored paint. Tim exited the car and looked around at their destination. The driver closed the door and activated the security system. He took the lead, reaching the outer door well before a still-confused Tim. The two of them went inside and up a short flight of stairs, also the recipient of a new coat of paint.

On the second floor, the room opened into a large studio space. Several stations were set up all around the place, some with just a stool in front of a multicolored backdrop, others with couches and settees, draped with cloth and a few pillows scattered about. All over, tall stands of bright lights, as well as, overhead lights and several reflectors stood on thin black legs.

"What...the hell?" Tim said, shaking his head.

This new voice caught the attention of a slender, wiry young man with disheveled brown hair already walking in the direction of the door. Upon seeing his new arrival, his demeanor changed to one of excitement and enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey! You're early!" He said, extending his hand. "I'm Peter Parker, your photographer for the day. It's good to have you in front of my lens!"

"I'm sorry...what?"

"You're here for your shoot, right? Your assistant just texted me that you were on your way."

"My...shoot? For what?"

" _Vogue_ is doing a fashion spread for the C.E.O.s of Fortune 500 companies. When we didn't hear back from you, we thought you declined. Mr. Abernathy said he just misplaced the invitation and you had accepted after all. I'm glad."

"Yes. Alfred, remind me to _kill_ Jacob Abernathy when we get back to the office."

"Homicide at four. Noted, sir."

Peter gave him a knowing grin. "You _did_ decline, didn't you?"

"I did. Twice. This kind of thing just isn't me. Getting make-up done, wardrobe, and all those lights? I'm not too into being the center of attention like that."

"You're our youngest C.E.O. You've been included in the text, you might as well have your picture taken and be included in the spread."

"Jacob mentioned something about my having to take off my pants?"

"The magazine sent over some clothes," Peter said with a chuckle and a hooked thumb toward the furthest part of the studio. "Sorry there're no changing rooms, though. You'll have to just change by each of the clothes racks."

"I haven't agreed to do it."

Peter smiled. "You haven't left, either."

"I'll circle the block," Alfred told him. "After taking in a movie. Have a pleasant time."

Not able to stop the man from leaving,  Tim turned back to the photographer. "No one else here?"

"Not for another hour. We'll go ahead and get your solo work out of the way, if you'd like. The station with the blue-gray background will be first. The silver Armani would look best on you."

"How long have you been a photographer for _Vogue_?"

Peter led the way to the station in question. "Two years. I was a news photographer before then. Print is dying out so I went where the money is."

Sunlight came in through the banks of windows, adding to the brightness of the place. This area of the warehouse was not as open, the rack of clothes blocking off a good portion of the light. Tim stepped behind it, examining the suits. Several shirts hung alongside them, some casual pants, jeans, and a small collection of underwear on their own hangars. He touched one of these, indicating a bright pair of blue briefs with someone's name on the waistband. Peter seemed to read the question on his face before he could voice it.

"Yeah. Pick a color you like and slip those on before you dress. Those guys are sponsoring the shoot and even if it's just a hint of waistband, they get their advertising dollars back."

Peter began working with a camera mounted on a tripod. Tim loosened his tie and slipped it over his head. At the same time, he got out of his shoes. The shutter release startled him. When he turned, Peter was smiling at him.

"Candid shots. _Vogue_ does online pieces too, so I have to have all kinds of content. Don't worry, I won't get any skin," he said, the smile growing larger. "Unless you want to show some."

Tim continued getting out of his shirt and pants. Stripped to his underwear, he hesitated. "I'm wearing the same kind of briefs, do I have to change out of them?"

"If the waistband has the same name, you don't have to worry." Peter looked up from the camera lens. "Unless you want to change into a different color than white."

 _Don't put on your I'm a businessman face_ , Jacob told him. _Fun. This was supposed to be fun_ , he reminded himself. Hooking his thumbs into his waistband, he shoved his own briefs down and stepped out of them. The first pair of red briefs had a white band along the waist and one down the center. He slipped these on, then adjusted himself. On a whim, he turned toward Peter, who was watching him with a broad smile.

"What do you think?"

"You don't want to know what I think."

"Come on, tell me."

"I think your penis looks tremendous in those." Peter smiled, tapping the top of his mounted camera. "If this were any other sort of shoot, I would be snapping away, just to capture it."

A broad grin came over Tim's face. "You know, Mr. Parker, I could have you fired for sexual harassment, making comments like that."

"Yeah, I'm sure you could. Or, you could have a seat on the couch over by the window and let me take a few casuals of you while there's no one else here."

"I don't think so," Tim said, taking a shirt from the rack and slipping it on. "This is a little _too_ casual for the C.E.O. of a major company."

The photographer waited until the white shirt was in place before snapping a photo. "Come look," he said before his client could get angry with him. He pointed toward a monitor. "Really. Just have a look before you say no to these kinds of pictures."

More than reluctant, Tim came to the monitor station where the single image of him putting on the shirt was displayed. It was tasteful, the white shirt crisp and dignified. The sliver of skin down the center was no worse than a number of ads out. Peter's finger traced the image, rounding over his pecs and down to the first bump of abs.

"Just a hint of sexy. This picture could be you getting up and dressing for the office."

"It could be, sure."

"Or, undressing after a long, _hard_ day."

This brought about genuine laughter. "Don't start. You sound like a friend of mine trying to set me up with the first warm body to come along." He went back to the rack of clothes where he took the pants of the silver-gray Armani. Stepping into them, the shutter-release sound came again. He did not bother to look up, just continued putting on the suit. Peter began snapping all sorts of different photos. By the time he was dressed, there had to be an easy two dozen. Peter directed him to the center of the backdrop and instructed on how to pose. It did not take long for him to lose whatever hang-up he might have had about this. It was, he admitted to himself, fun. Being able to look goofy in a few of the photos, to pose with a basketball as though he were shooting free-throws in a thousand dollar suit, it made his smile genuine.

"You're a natural at this. Once you let go of yourself, I mean."

Replacing the basketball, Tim avoided the compliment. The door to the space opened, admitting a slender blond with pale skin and an easy, confident demeanor. After closing the door behind him, he crossed the space to where Peter and Tim stood. He gave them a dazzling, easy smile before extending his hand to Peter.

"Sorry, I was running behind. Draco Malfoy."

"It's all right, Mr. Malfoy. We were getting along well enough on our own. I'm sure things can only get better now that you've arrived. Have you met Mr. Drake?"

"Drake-Wayne," Tim corrected him, extending his hand to the blond. "I read your financial paper in last month's _Forbes_ page. Nice work."

"Thank you. Silver-gray looks good on you. Best I stay in the suit I wore, I think."

Peter smiled, indicating the backdrop to their right. "I think you're right. Emerald green is your color. Mr. Drake, would you mind waiting with Mr. Malfoy while I reset the space for lighting?"

Draco clapped a hand on Tim's shoulder. "He won't mind. We'll talk about the latest interruption of income to the Apple I-devices in favor of WayneTech devices."

Several minutes later, when the gray, black and white background was lit in a flattering way, Peter brought Draco into the space and began posing him. Afterward, he took the lead and began posing himself in flattering ways which Peter captured. After several dozen shots, he slipped off the fitted jacket and tossed it to Tim, who caught it. The two of them exchanged smiles before Draco began loosening the knot of his tie. Tim watched the blond unbutton the first two buttons and then slide both hands into his pockets. Peter snapped a few photos, prompting the release of more buttons.

"Excellent," the photographer said, taking the camera from the tripod. "Mr. Drake? Want to come join him? You can keep your shirt buttoned."

Draco moved to the back of the space while Tim stepped up. He felt strange being with someone not too much older than himself but be the more mature one. Draco removed his shirt but kept his tie on, allowing a few shots. Tim glanced at the smooth, pale skin of the blond, but kept his eyes forward while having his own shots taken. The photographer was much more professional than he thought he would be, directing them toward the best light, correcting their angles, pairing them together in a more flattering way.

At the close of the shoot, Draco dressed in his flattering emerald suit once again, the shimmering silver tie knotted at his throat. Taking it upon himself to walk Tim to the ground floor, he thanked the photographer for the both of them.

"It was my pleasure," Peter said, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the extra shots, by the way."

"Maybe, if we get a chance to work together again, I'll make it more interesting."

Tim ignored this, wanting to get on with his day. Mixed emotions left him feeling uneasy and giddy, at the same time. He wondered which of the emotions would win out.

***

"You guys are NOT going to believe this!"

Bart distributed the copies of Vogue throughout the common room of Titans Tower before Conner had a chance to put his shirt back on. Coming up from the weight machine, he glanced at the cover. Tim, dressed in a silver suit and dark blue tie, looked up at him with a pleasant expression bordering on a smile. His name was splashed across the bottom in elegant, bold script. Conner picked up the magazine and began flipping through the pages.

"One-forty-three!" Bart called out, laughing.

Page one thirty-nine showed a full-body shot of Tim in a flattering, tailored suit. Someone with very pale skin without a shirt stood blurred in the background. The adjacent article talked about the various C.E.O.s of major companies but all Conner saw was the smoldering look on Tim's face and the hint of a shirtless male behind him.

Page one forty-one showed Tim in an open shirt, the smooth curve of his right pectoral in stark contrast with the white garment. Conner's gaze lingered on the pale flesh, on the hint of pink which was Tim's nipple. An odd shiver went through him. At the bottom of the picture, near the page number, the sharp indention of Tim's hips disappeared into black pants. Conner felt a warmth spread through his groin.

"Robin's all growed up!" Bart cackled, falling onto the sofa, letting the magazine fall to the floor. "Oh, man! He is never going to live this down!"

Still seated on the weight bench, Conner turned the page. Two photos of Tim were overlapping, one with the shirt open, the other with it buttoned half-way. Conner focused on the open shirt, the slope of Tim's pecs, the hard ridges of his abs, and the sweet, sharp curve of his trim hips. He followed the "V" until it disappeared into his pants. The warmth in his groin intensified.

On the opposite page, Tim stood in profile, dark hair falling into his face. His neck and shoulders were relaxed, not tense and hard. They tapered to his lower arm, then a wrist, then to the hand holding the fastenings of his silver suit pants. Pecs rounded at an angle, easing into his abs. Pale pink nipples crowned each slab of lean muscle, standing out from his flesh. Conner followed the angle of Tim's body, gliding over the hard abs, lingering on the deep navel and dark hair growing around it. The designer's name stood out on the waistband of the black briefs but Conner saw only a barrier to the rest of Tim's beautiful, pale body.

"I've bought extras so we can give them out!" Bart shouted and laughed. "I can't wait to get the copies back from the office place! I'm going to plaster his room with them! Robin – _in his undies_ – for all the world to see!! Hilarious!"

Conner did not find it funny seeing Tim's lean, hard body on display. Until this moment, he only ever saw Tim as Robin, their leader. His thumb grazed the bottom portion of the page, wondering what it would be like to touch the soft hair on Tim's stomach, to follow the hair – with his mouth, to where it disappeared into his briefs...maybe beyond. The warmth in his crotch spread to his dick, swelling the flesh and making him feel hot.

"Oh, man! I just thought about something! There have to be more pictures online!!" Bart was up and running to the computer. Seconds later, the monitor was filled with the photos from the Vogue article. "I knew it!! Holy crap!"

Conner took in the picture of Tim standing in the center of a gray, white, and black backdrop with his shirt open, an odd expression on his face, the same blurred figure in the background. The expression made him look as though he were caught in the middle of something. Another picture, also of Tim with his shirt open, looked as though he might have been taking his clothes off. The figure in the background, still blurred, stood closer, almost touching. The second figure was shirtless. Still another of Tim without his shirt with someone else's thumb through the belt loop of his suit pants looked out from the magazine. The thumb was a simple gesture loaded with sexual overtones. Conner's hard dick throbbed against the front of his jeans. He imagined himself standing behind Tim, his shirt off, his thumb in Tim's belt loop.

"I can't wait to see our resident pin-up boy! I wonder if he'll sign my copy!" Bart erupted into peels of laughter.

Wally, Roy, and Jason were laughing, as well. Conner wasn't laughing. He found nothing funny about what he was looking at, nor what he was thinking about while looking at it. Seeing Tim this way awakened all sorts of feelings he thought dealt with a while back. _Rather, put aside_ , he reminded himself.

"Isn't this hysterical?" Bart, still laughing, punched him in the arm.

"Yeah," Conner said, his attention still on the pictures. "Hysterical."

Realizing he was still holding the magazine, Conner went back to retrieve his shirt before leaving the common room. This was not the time to be standing around laughing with the others. The swelling in his pants, the swirling emotions in his head, these were things he did not think he could process. Stopping by his quarters, he tucked the magazine under his mattress before putting his shirt on. Dressed, he stepped out of the window of Titans Tower and sped out into the city. He needed to clear his head and think things through. Being around Tim was going to be difficult for the next few weeks.

***

"We have to prevent them from reaching the dock!" Red Robin gauged the distance, then turned back toward the open street. "Cyborg, see if you can find the frequency of their engine and shut it down! Impulse, do a sweep and make sure no one is injured!"

"I'm on it, shirtless leader!"

Behind the mask, Robin rolled his eyes. "Enough of the chatter. Focus on the job."

"I  can multitask, oh, great Stylish One!"

"Good grief, give it a rest, already!"

Speeding forward, into the bank, Impulse smiled. "No one's left inside the lobby. I'll do a sweep and then chase down the truck."

"No, stay there. Do a sweep of the whole building. Superboy's got the truck."

"Cyborg, here. The engine is not computerized but I did manage to hack into the boat's systems. Even if the truck reaches the dock, there's nowhere else for it to go!"

Seconds later, Superboy touched down on in the center of the street. "They're not going anywhere, trust me! I've got them!"

Unable to turn in the narrow space, the truck continued forward, stopped only when the grill smashed into the Boy of Steel's outstretched hands. The hero's fingers closed around the grill, twisting the metal into useless nothing. Inside the cab, both the driver and the four others in the back lurched forward. One of the passengers knocked themselves out on impact. Coming around to the side door, Superboy tore the thing from its hinges and would have removed the thugs right away, were it not for the barrage of bullets he faced. Each one tore a strip of his shirt away until he was left wearing a garment made of red and black ribbons.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" He said, looking down at his exposed chest.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Robin has an extra," Arsenal said, opening the back doors and taking out the first two thugs. "He's not using them, anyway!"

"You all are a riot," Robin said, turning to the band of thugs he and Cyborg apprehended. "Do you think we can get through the rest of this operation without one more joke?"

In a cloud of dust, they were joined by a smiling Impulse. "Yeah, because I'm pretty sure Rob's got a photoshoot to get to! Maybe this time, he won't bother with clothes, at all!"

"Enough!" Robin shouted, reaching his limit. "This is serious! These guys almost made off with half a million dollars' worth of tech! Focus on the job, please!"

Admonished, Impulse did a full sweep of the area. Cyborg, very near where Robin secured the last of the thugs, finished rendering the equipment inert without damaging it. Arsenal and Superboy removed the other thugs, zip-tied their wrists, and sent in the call to the local police department. Their wait-time was not long, as the police were in pursuit of the robbers.

"Let's go home," Robin said, already on the way toward the jet hovering over a nearby building.

"Can we drop you at _Vogue_?" Impulse shouted after him, still snickering.

Now without his shirt, Superboy lifted the younger male off the ground to face him. "That's enough! You've been at him for the last week, it's not funny anymore – got me?"

"Yeah...I got you." Impulse swallowed his next comment, thinking it best he keep it to himself.

The hero's hard pecs flexed as he dropped Impulse back to the street. Taking to the air, he reached the hovering vehicle before the others, entering just after Robin. He found the other hero in the pilot's chair, preparing to leave the area.

"Don't let those others get to you," he said, taking the other seat.

"You need to start bringing extra shirts," Robin told him by way of deflecting. "The last thing we need right now is the press snapping pictures of you and plastering them up on the 'Net."

Superboy held up both arms and flexed, hardening his biceps and chest. "Why? You afraid of the competition from a _real_ stud?"

For the first time all day, Robin smiled. "Not you, too."

"At least you know I'm trying to bust your balls," the other hero said, punching in their destination. "The others aren't either. It's just pretty out of character for you."

"Maybe I'm just tired of doing things in-character for me. I just thought it would be fun to let loose a little and do something unexpected."

"Was it? Fun, I mean."

"Wearing an expensive suit, posing like a supermodel, being paid attention to for something other than what I could give somebody? Yeah. It was pretty fun."

"As long as you had fun, then screw those other guys!"

Robin released the automatic controls. "Yeah. Screw them." He glanced at his teammate, taking in the other's expression and the hard slope of his slab-like pecs. _I'd rather screw you_ , he thought to himself, forcing his eyes forward.

***

Velvet Klein was standing near the window, sipping fresh coffee when Tim came into his office. Watching in the glass, she waited until he came behind his desk to face him. She was wearing a smile he knew all too well so he braced himself for what this would mean for him.

"Our sales are climbing! We're working with a distributor from Malaysia for some excellent textiles! The best part is, they contacted us – through the app!"

"Great! I could use some good news, this morning."

"Darling, are you still worrying over those photos? It's been a month! The fervor over your young, firm torso has been good for your business numbers! It sends a very clear message about how you view yourself as a person and shatters the idea serious people can't be sexy! Besides, you're only young once – why not do all you can to preserve it in whatever form you can!"

"Speaking of preserving," Jacob began.

"No." Tim waved him off.

"No...what?" Velvet inquired, turning toward the assistant, who had been with her since her arrival half an hour prior. "Tell me, young man. I'm dying to know!"

"After the _Vogue_ photos, _Attitude_ magazine has been asking for an interview and a five-page spread. We've turned them down twice."

"Why on Earth would you turn down free publicity?" Velvet turned to Tim for the answer.

"It isn't publicity I need," he told her, taking a seat. "I'm a Technology C.E.O., not a cover model!"

"Darling, you could be both! Many people, these days, have multiple careers! You had the third highest selling cover of the year. This says something!"

"People are desperate for mediocrity?"

She waved his answer away, coming back to refill her cup. The bright, emerald-green suit and its orange blouse would have been garish on anyone else. "Stop it! Young man, call those _Attitude_ people back this minute! Tell them Mr. Drake accepts!"

"Drake-Wayne," Tim corrected her.

"That's another thing!" Velvet said, turning to face him. "Either be a Wayne or a Drake! You are not married to Bruce Wayne, you are serving as his C.E.O. of this particular part of the company! By hyphenating your name, all you're doing is telling the world you need the Wayne name to legitimize yourself."

"Which you don't," Jacob added.

Velvet raised a hand in triumph. "Which – you don't! Embrace yourself, Mr. Drake! All of yourself! Embrace the young genius, the corporate mogul, and the delicious press morsel you are! Modesty has its place but not when you're bringing in clients for your business, just by taking your shirt off!"

"She is right," Jacob said. "Four out of the five new clients we've signed mentioned the _Vogue_ piece.  It isn't the only reason, I know, but it is a factor."

"All right. You've worn me down. I'll do the interview." Tim shook his head. "Contact the _Attitude_ people and let them know."

"Just...did." The assistant said, sending his text. "You've made the right choice, sir.

***

In the back seat of the car, Tim fussed with the hem of his coat. From time to time, he glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Gotham passed in grays and blacks, his mind attempting to process what was happening to him. Not only was he going to do a second photoshoot but he was going to do it knowing full-well the attached interview would be one of the most probing he had given – ever. Bruce said nothing about the _Vogue_ pictures. The Titans said plenty but he remained silent. Dick said nothing.

"Am I making a mistake?"

Without missing a beat, Alfred answered. "No, you are making a name for yourself, one apart from anyone else's, one which will establish you for who you are, not for who others make you into."

"Any words of advice?"

"Will you heed them if I offer them?"

"Take a chance, Alfred."

"I will tell you the same thing I have told the other three young men who came before you. The path you choose in life is one unique to you. Therefore, you must be sure the path is as easy as it can be for you and those you choose to bring along with you. This does not mean your path is free from struggle but there is no need to create adversity just for the sake of doing so."

"Should I be doing this photoshoot?"

"The word, _should_ , is dangerous. It puts undo pressure on a soul. Do the shoot, young master. Do it with your clothes on – or off, but do it with your dignity in place. Whatever choices you make, own them."

Some few moments later, the car pulled up to a bleached building with tall windows on its fourth floor and an austerity which Tim did not care for. Alfred opened the door and walked him into the building. They were shown to a spacious studio area set up much like the warehouse set but with much less natural light from the outside, in spite of the windows. Two singular areas were set up with backdrops but there were no racks of clothes. Alfred reiterated his words from before, then took his leave. Tim wandered to the windows, going over it all in his head.

When the door opened again, it admitted a familiar face. "Hey! It's you again!"

"Mr. Parker," Tim said, turning. "You do get around, don't you?"

"As a photographer, I do," the brown-haired young man said, coming over to one of the tripods. "I don't want to comment in any other capacity, for fear it might incriminate me."

"I thought you were a _Vogue_ photographer."

"I am. They're the ones signing my checks, anyway. Still, I was requested for this shoot."

"By whom?"

"Me!" Draco Malfoy answered, coming through the door. "Do I have perfect timing – or what?"

A low-burning ember sprang to life in Tim's lower stomach. As the silver-blond walked forward, he felt the heat begin to spread up into his chest and down into his groin. In the tight black briefs, he felt the first pulse of his dick strain the material. Confident strides brought the blond into the center of the room, both hands out on either side of his slender, fit body.

"I like the heat you captured before, Mr. Parker. Since this is a little more relaxed, I thought you could do the same here." Draco's thick British inflections were much more relaxed. "Mr. Drake, think you can handle the wardrobe for this shoot?"

"Wardrobe?"

Draco chuckled, going over to two silver briefcases on a table. He opened the first and held up a pair of emerald green briefs with a bold white band around the waist. "You seem like someone who would look good in green. What do you say?"

Tim caught the briefs, his eyes still on Draco. "You're kidding, right?"

Peter answered. "I'm afraid not. You're holding the only wardrobe you're going to need."

"Uh...what?"

The blond was out of his shoes, socks, and tie when he answered. "You do know what sort of magazine _Attitude_ is, don't you?" He let his shirt fall open, revealing a slender, pale torso.

"Not...really. What am I missing?"

Like a serpent, Draco crossed the room to where Tim stood, with a slow sensuality to his movements. Two fingers slipped the first button free on the stiff white shirt. "It's a publication celebrating the male form, mate. In this case, yours and mine." The back of his fingers slid inside the shirt, his coolness a startling contrast to the heat Tim felt. "Together, maybe?"

"I don't...think so. I mean...it wouldn't be good for our...uh, the corporate image."

"It's a new world out there, Mr. Drake. Our corporate image needs to be shaken up. It doesn't need to remain stale and stoic. We don't need to remain what our predecessors were." Two more buttons were undone, then the last one, Draco's fingers still inside the shirt. "Be bold, Mr. Drake. Make bold decisions with this shoot, the same as you do in business."

Tim felt warm breath on his chin, his cheek, and the exposed flesh of his collar. He felt the cool fingers against his lower stomach, the tips of which were sliding into the waist of his pants. Part of him wanted to let this handsome blond do whatever he wanted while another part wanted to stop him, to remind him they weren't alone. The loud sound of the lock being turned startled him, made him jerk his head over to where Peter was coming away from the door.

"Thought we could do with some privacy," the man said, his easy smile in place. "Unless you want me to unlock it. I want you to be comfortable."

Draco used the fingers of one hand to lead Tim to the first backdrop. As in their previous shoot, Draco stood behind Tim, but this time, the thumb he hooked into the belt loop found its way into his pants. The press of his body against Tim's was subtle this time. Even the hearty bulge in his stylish gray slacks did not just graze Tim's ass, it nudged hard into him so he felt it pulse.

Peter's first photo captured an awkward Tim Drake and a rather predatory Draco Malfoy. "You might want to take a breath and let it out slow. Take in your surroundings and let them be a part of you. It sounds all crazy until you do it."

Tim nodded, clutching the green briefs in one hand. Behind him, the young man's torso pressed into his back, the coolness heating up. Draco's free hand brought his shirt down on his shoulder, prompting Peter's second and third photo. The gentle graze of a smooth chin against his neck caused Tim to jump. Peter's next few photos captured an awkward, yet comical, exchange. This helped relax Tim. His first few solo shots were good ones. Draco needed no prompting to pose for his own. He stood with his back to Peter, flexing his shoulders and arms to cause the muscle to be more prominent. Tim watched. His attention was fixed on this slender boy but his mind wondered what he would look like with more definition, more muscle. _What would he look like with darker hair and three inches on his height_ , he wondered, watching as Draco undid his belt. Peter captured the moment, as well as the fastening of his suit pants and the coy slide of the tight garment down his narrow hips.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you want to just—"

"Yes, Mr. Parker, I came dressed for the occasion." Draco said, cutting him off.

The blond moved to the middle of the space, the subtle lighting drawing out the easy musculature of his lean body. Already divested of his shoes and socks, he pushed his suit pants down over his trim hips. They pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them. White light on either side of him turned his already pale skin to ivory, the curves of his pecs and abs becoming a dark cream. He stood naked, arms out to his side, hands opens toward the ceiling. Peter's camera captured every turn of his complete rotation. His profile was impressive, just as his back view. Both globes of his firm ass were held high over two thick columns of lean muscle. His calves were hard and flexed.

"We'll have to figure out how to cover you," Peter said as Draco was coming back full front.

"A serpent," Tim said, watching the other's hard body move. "It's elegant but dangerous. Done the right way, it will test well among the audience. No fangs or anything like that, just a curved, emerald serpent, placed over the..."

"Cock," Draco finished with a smile.

"Right."

"Your turn, Mr. Drake. Be bold. Strip."

The one-word command made Tim shiver but he was not sure why. "I'm not getting naked."

"You don't have to," Draco told him. "I've already been assured the cover of The Naked Issue. All you have to do is select a fetching pair of briefs and show off your very nice backside."

"My..."

"Ass," the blond clarified. "You can do that, can't you?"

Again, Draco crossed to Tim and hooked his fingers into the waist of his pants. His other hand undid the fastenings and slid the zipper down with a soft rasping whisper. With his back to Peter, the blond allowed his hand to slide into the slacks. What he found raised his eyebrow.

"Mr. Drake...you scoundrel."

"Habit," Tim said, feeling himself thicken as the fingers touched his bare flesh.

Draco leaned close, allowing his fingers to glide along the length. "Whatever will you do? If you were to drop your pants now, Mr. Parker would get quite the eye-full, wouldn't he?" His first two fingers slid under the plump head, gliding through slick wetness. "My, my...we _are_ wound up, aren't we?"

"I'll give you both the room for a few minutes. I'll get us some snacks."

Moments later, when Peter was gone, Tim found himself a roiling mess of emotions. Draco's hard, lean body now pressed against his own, their collective pale flesh lit by the soft lights. One hand continued to work itself along Tim's engorged dick, a thumb collecting from the head what Draco would use for lube to finish him off. Like a bird, trapped in the eyes of a cobra, Tim could not look away as the hand worked its delicious magic on his body. Such cold compassion in those clear eyes, it made him want to abandon himself all together and let this pale man take him right here on the floor.

"Be bold," Draco told him, leaning into him even as Tim rose up on his toes. "Do it, Mr. Drake. Do what your body is screaming for you to do."

Pressed against Draco's body, Tim panted, sighed, then groaned. The sound came at the same time he did. Against his better judgment, he allowed this beautiful Brit to continue stroking his hard dick until he was now spewing his hot load all over himself and the other's hard, nude body. He held hard to Draco's shoulder, gasping again as the hand did not stop moving.

"God..." Tim sighed.

"Thank you," Draco said, smiling. "Good of you to notice."

"I need to...I mean, we need to get cleaned up."

The blond's smile grew wider, much more predatory. "Leave that to me," he said, dropping to his knees in front of a stunned Tim.

With his back against the wall, Tim closed his eyes against the sensations flooding his body. Both hands tangled in the thick blond hair and he had to force himself not to move his hips for the next few moments. What began as a sly little moment was now a mind-blowing revelation for him. The warm lips closed over his shaft, the hands rubbing his thighs, these things felt so very good to him, so right. The only thing which felt wrong was not the sensations, not the reawakening of his dick in the other young man's mouth. Rather, it was the young man in question.

***

Nimble fingers of one hand slid down slick skin, under a firm, pink nipple. Between the thumb and forefinger, the sensitive skin was held and teased until the tingling sensation this brought about spread through the massive chest. Other fingers glided back and forth along the firm, pulsing length of what anyone who saw it would call, a beautiful cock. Conner looked down at himself, smiling at the implications, the same ones he always thought of when he touched himself. Long ago, Victor confirmed what he always wondered about. The full length, girth, and everything else about his sizable Super-Cock was just like Clark's. It gave him a strange sort of thrill to stroke himself with this thought in mind but now, standing in the warm stream of the shower, it was not Clark he thought of.

The online pictures of Tim's _Attitude_ spread played over and over in his mind. They were two weeks old but, because of Bart, they were everywhere in the Tower. After removing the first batch, all two hundred and twenty of them, Tim gave up. They would just be replaced. This meant Tim's hard pecs were plastered on every door of the cabinet in the kitchen, his harder abs were present on the fridge and oven doors, and the slim, narrow curve of his hips could be seen on every other door of the place. There were even full-sized posters on the shower stalls in the gym locker room, all copies of Tim's three full-bodied nude shots. He covered himself with a wadded-up pair of green briefs but he was nude in all of the pictures. The magazine did not post a single photo of Tim in clothes.

 _Not one_ , Conner thought, stroking his throbbing cock.

A hard pounding on the outer door startled him. "Come on! Get out of there! I just got back from a Joker run and I'm covered in goop! You can jerk off some other time, man!"

Roy. Crass and oblivious of boundaries. "Fuck," Conner swore, abandoning his cock. "There are other showers, you lazy jack-ass!"

Pushing open the shower door, he took just enough time to towel himself off enough he would not trail water after himself before opening the door to the shower room. Roy's hand was in mid-knock and impacted his bare chest with a thump.

"Ouch! Warn a guy, why don't you? What were you doing in there, anyway? Jerking off over your new boyfriend? Thinking sweet thoughts about Ti—"

Conner had Roy by the throat and was propelling him across the hallway in seconds. The impact on the other wall was like a bullet being fired in close quarters. "That's enough! No more, do you hear me? I don't want to hear another word about the article or what Tim said! I mean it!"

At the other end of the hallway, Bart, Victor, Wally, Garfield, and Jamie were gathered, all of them coming to see what the noise was. Conner dropped the redhead, then took a step back, allowing him to regain his footing and a modicum of his dignity. Still angry, the naked teen gave them all a withering stare and dared them to say anything.

"As for you punk-ass bitches, I want all those pictures GONE by the time I get back. Got me?"

Wally and Bart disappeared.

***

"It isn't as bad as you think. The few clients we lost, we didn't need them anyway."

Tim said nothing. "Has Bruce called?"

"No. He did send over a package."

"I know. I just thought maybe he would call."

"Are you going to open it?"

"Soon." Tim turned back to the file on his computer. "Any word from Velvet Klein?"

Jacob looked dejected. "Not for a while."

"We're going to weather this storm, just like we have every other one." Tim was resolute in this, as was evident by his tone. "Let's move forward, all right? It's the weekend, so there won't be too many people left at their desks today. Monday, we start calling around and rounding up the clients who have open jobs. We ask how their—"

"Sir? If I could interject something? I think you might be over-thinking this. Your announcement hasn't had the negative effect you think it's had. In fact, it's been the opposite. A lot of people are e-mailing us in support of you. This downturn in business follows the trends we've seen during this time of year. It has nothing to do with the _Attitude_ article."

"So, I'm being paranoid?"

Jacob nodded. "Yes, but I would never have said those words. You're worried about putting your private life out in the public."

The door to Tim's office opened, revealing an unexpected visitor in a long black coat and brilliant emerald green scarf. Draco Malfoy was smiling as he came inside. "I would have cleared my visit with your assistant but I can see why this was an impossibility."

"I'll just step out," Jacob said, already going to the door. "Would it be all right if I left early? I have an appointment at six and need to change."

Tim stood. "Sure. I'll see you on Monday."

Draco waited until the door was closed to come out of his coat and scarf, leaving them in a chair. "I'm in Gotham for a few days on business, I thought I would come by and have a chat."

"About?"

"I think you know."

"The article?"

The blond nodded, coming around the desk. "Being true to who you are is a noble thing. Revealing who you are to the world is a brave thing. It's rare to find noble, brave people in the corporate world, Mr. Drake. I'm glad to know they still exist."

"Not to put too fine a point on this but what are you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I came by to tell you how admirable I find your actions," the blond said, slipping his hand under the white silk tie Tim wore. The backs of his fingers were pressed into the other's chest. "I'm putting together a sort of elite group of businessmen, those of _likeminded interests_ , and I want you to be a part of it all. I even brought a proposal."

"Where is this proposal?"

"On a flash drive," Draco said, slipping his fingers down the tie. "In my pocket."

The smooth sexuality of the man excited Tim. His bold brashness never failed to excite him, to make his dick rock-solid. Now was no exception. The fingers on his stomach slipped into his shirt, igniting a warmth which spread into his groin. Their eyes were locked on one another.

"You'll handle the tech for this group, all of our communications software, even the security systems, if you want to devise the algorithms. You'll be an equal partner among five others."

"I suppose this group has a buy-in?"

Draco's nimble fingers worked the buttons of Tim's shirt loose, allowing his hand to slip inside against his skin. "One hundred thousand dollars, to help fund the start-up."

"How long do I have to think about it?"

"The weekend," the blond said, his hand going over the furry portion of Tim's stomach.

"How many others have signed on?"

"Three," Draco answered, leaning in close. "Myself makes four."

"Why do you want me?"

"First, because you're good at what you do." The hand dipped lower. "Second because I think your keen mind would be an asset to us."

"Third, because I can persuade your sixth member."

Draco's smile was beautiful in its mischief. "Smart boy." The hand found the absence of underwear and Draco's smile widened. "You weren't kidding about old habits, were you?"

"I never joke about serious things."

The blond withdrew his hand and rebuttoned the shirt. "Neither do I. I want you onboard for yourself and your skill alone. If you bring this other party with you – excellent. If you don't, I'll find a way to bring him on, myself. Take the weekend, think about it."

Withdrawing a slender silver case, Draco put it on the desk. Tim looked at it , recognizing it as a WayneTech drive, one with built-in encryption. The challenge was clear. He would need to break the encryption in order to read the proposal. His eyes returned to Draco's own clear ones. No malice, no cunning, just the sexy sort of mischief that kept his dick hard.

"There is one other thing, one I don't want to sway your decision."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

In a motion too quick to stop, Draco's hand caught the back of Tim's head, bringing their lips together in a savage, sweet kiss. Tim was caught off-guard but found himself responding before he knew what he was doing. His hand caught Draco's chest but not to push him away. The kiss stretched out between them, long and easy.

Using his thumb and index finger, Draco wiped his mouth when the kiss was finished. "That one little aspect of our negotiation was non-negotiable."

"I could see that," Tim said, smiling.

"What you've done with the Attitude article has opened a very big door," Draco said, going back around the desk and gathering his things. "Things are going to change for you, now."

"You know I'm going to investigate this group before committing to it."

At the door, the blond gave a knowing nod. "If you didn't, I'd rescind the offer. The other players in our little game are in the proposal. Accept, and you'll meet me at the enclosed location on Monday. Decline and you can wipe the flash and send it back by messenger to the Gotham Five Star."  

Tim watched the blond let himself out, then close the door behind him. For the next half hour, he pondered the idea of putting in the drive and figuring out the message. There was a lot to think about either way he went with this. At last, he stood and left his office, letting his feet carry him through the now empty offices of the upper floor and into the lobby where the work had ceased for the day. The bright gold letters proclaiming this WayneTech were gone and precise holes for doors were cut into the wall. Braces were in place so he went through one of the doors to see the demolition work on the other side. Large portions of walls were gone here, too.

"Everything is changing," he said, going to one of the windows. All of Gotham was beginning to darken as the evening came. He turned back to gaze at the open space. "For the better or worse, I don't know."

The knock on the window caused him to jump. Turning, he was more than surprised to see a rather perturbed Superboy – floating just outside the window. Even without the ability to hear what he was saying, Tim understood the jabbing of the finger toward the window release. He moved to open it, allowing the other hero to glide into the open room.

Superboy thrust a physical copy of _Attitude_ at a stunned Tim Drake. "Is it true?"

"I can explain. It was—"

"Just answer the question, is it true?"

"Which parts?"

"Don't dance around the subject, Tim. This is serious. I'm serious."

Tim let his head dip. "Yes, I'm gay. I should have said something a long time ago but I didn't even admit it to myself until the shoot."

Conner flipped to the article. "And this?"

Color rose in Tim's cheeks. "All of the teasing I got from the Vogue pictures. I never meant to embarrass you, I swear! It just slipped out."

"Is it true?" Conner asked, allowing the magazine to fall to the floor. "I'm your celebrity pass?"

"Ye—"

Tim found himself pinned to the outer wall, several feet off the floor. The rest of his admission was swallowed up by Conner's hard, soft lips on his. One hand held the collar of his shirt, the other was working the fastenings on his pants. Tim kissed back, caught in the grip of the hero and the moment. Something felt very right about the timing and the aggression felt right. Suspended in the air, he kicked off his shoes, letting them fall to the floor, as well. Conner's hand managed to loosen his pants and he was able to squirm out of them, as well.

"I can explain," Tim gasped as soon as the kiss was broken. "Roy and the others just would not let up! The crack you made about my briefs, the shirtless pictures...it was just too much."

"No more talking," Conner said, his free hand reaching back to pull his shirt up and over his head.

Another kiss forced Tim into silence. Conner's broad, bare chest pressed into his, pinning them both to the wall. They managed to get Tim free of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Putting his knees on the wall, Conner created a place for Tim to rest. Leaning back, the broad-shouldered hero was able to look at the slender young man's beautiful body, now divested of his clothes. His hands pressed into the soft curve of Tim's pecs, caressing them. Each of his thumbs rounded over a nipple, causing them to rise into soft, hard nubs. He smiled at this reaction, repeating it as he kissed Tim again.

More than just the kiss felt right about what was happening. The urgency, the sense of need, the abject lust in the way Conner approached all of this, it felt like years of pent-up feelings being released. Naked, sitting in Conner's lap, the two of them suspended in mid-air, it was just the sort of craziness he expected from his life.

Conner hoisted Tim's slender body up on the wall, supporting his weight by gripping his beautiful ass. This brought his likewise beautiful dick up to a position where he could slip the head into his mouth. This time, when his thumb moved, it was between the firm cheeks of his ass. Tim jerked his body forward, pushing his dick further into Conner's warm, willing mouth. Looking up, the muscled hero swallowed more and more until his nose was brushing the wiry softness of Tim's trimmed pubic hair. The resulting gasp was worth his effort. He wasted no time in setting up a specific rhythm designed to hold Tim at this current state of excitement.

"How...did you...learn this?" Tim gasped, riding the waves of pleasure now coursing through his body. Both hands held tight to Conner's broad shoulders. ""You're... _oh_...too good at this for it to be your first time doing it!"

Pulling off the throbbing shaft, Conner grinned. "You really want me to waste time telling you how I learned to do this?"

Tim took hold of the boy's head, pulling it back to his aching member. "No. Carry on."

Holding Tim's firm ass in both hands, he brought the other male away from the wall, flying them into the center of the room. His mouth continued to work along the entire shaft, his tongue tracing a singular vein, then dipping into the fullness of Tim's balls. Their bodies rotated as he serviced the naked executive, using every oral trick he knew to excite and stimulate. Moving beyond the now-turgid dick, he kissed his way up Tim's torso, moving his mouth over the flexing abs, up to the pecs, capturing a nipple in between his teeth. Extending his arms allowed Tim to lay back, letting him relax and enjoy the sensations Conner was sending through his body.

First, the full length slid into Conner's mouth, the hard veins pressed into his tongue. The spongy head hit the back of his throat and he swallowed it, allowing for more. Tim squirmed in his arms, making soft little sounds. Each of his legs rose up, coming up onto Conner's shoulders, his bare heels hooked behind the boy's head, now. Unable to help himself, he began working his hips back and forth, using Conner's warm mouth as a personal pleasure receptacle. Enthusiastic noises from Conner made him speed up his pace. His right hand threaded through Conner's thick hair, guiding him.

Conner moved as he was directed, his mouth sucking hard on the tender flesh. Both hands moved up and down Tim's naked torso, his fingers massaging the tense, tired muscles. They rotated in a slow, easy circle, high up off the floor. At one point, Conner let both of his shoes fall to the floor. Then, using just his feet, he got himself out of his socks, all the while moving his mouth back and forth on Tim.

"Slow down," Tim gasped at one point.

"No," Conner said, continuing to mouth and kiss at the warm shaft.

"Fuck," the slender hero sighed, his hips still moving along with the mouth.

Allowing his fingers to dig into the softness of Tim's ass, Conner held to the boy this way as he began pushing the full length into his mouth and throat. Each time he pulled his mouth up, he sucked as hard as he could. Tim squirmed in his hands, one foot now on his shoulder, attempting to push him away. His other foot flattened on the other shoulder and Tim's hips rose to their highest point. This drove his full length down Conner's throat.

Conner held him there, swallowing several times, using his throat to massage the few inches there. He felt Tim's body tense seconds before pulling his mouth back to where he could hold the head against the roof of his mouth by flattening his tongue against it. Tim gasped. Conner moaned.

"You're... _super_ at this," Tim groaned, letting his legs relax around Conner's shoulders.

One long burst of warm cum shot against the roof of Conner's mouth. Tim's hips jerked twice, sending more of the same into the young hero's mouth and throat. Conner savored the warmth and salty sweetness of what Tim had for him. One hand held the other's back while he massaged the fullness of Tim's balls, coaxing out everything he had within them.

"Good gods, Conner...you're draining me!" Tim groaned again, emptying himself. One leg climbed the side of Conner's hip, rough denim greeting him. "Take...your pants off."

"You're not the boss of me," the hunky hero growled, lowering them both to the floor. "You don't get to give orders here, Mr. Drake."

Tim was playful in his response. "It's still my company, Mr. Kent!" He took a step back, causing the other hero to come forward. "I could have you escorted from the building with just one call."

Conner smiled, rubbing the bulging center of his groin. "Do that and who would take care of this?"

"Whoever taught you how to do what you did a few minutes ago."

Stopping in a cone of overhead light, Conner undid the first button of his jeans with two fingers while his other two fingers took firm hold of his right nipple. Like a strange, erotic dream figure come to life, he excited his own body enough for the swelling in his crotch to become obscene. When it threatened to tear his jeans, he flexed his chest.

"Come over here," Conner said, his voice low and commanding. "Take my pants off."

"You're not fooling anybody. This whole tough-guy thing isn't you. It's got Roy all over—"

"Now."

A single word made Tim shiver. "What if I don't want to?"

Conner smiled, working his zipper down. "Oh, you want to. The article says you want to. Your shallow breathing and rapid heartbeat says you want to." His smile widened. "Your raging boner says you want to. Come on, take my pants off."

Tim took his first few steps toward the cone of light. "It's not _raging_. Don't flatter yourself."

"Hey, you were the one who said it." Conner spread the flaps of his jeans, exposing his dark pubic hair. "You said I was your celebrity pass, the one person you would give a pass to do whatever he wanted to you, whenever he wanted. I'm choosing my time right now, Mr. Drake. Take my pants off."

"Looks like you're doing a good enough job without me."

"I just started the process. You do the rest."

Another step brought Tim closer to the cone of light and the thickness hinted at in the top of Conner's jeans. They looked at one another even as Tim's fingers grazed the lower portion of muscled stomach, the portion covered in a light dusting of hair. At this casual touch, Conner flinched but then flexed his lower stomach. Tim smiled, letting his fingers trail upward, gliding over the smooth muscle. Their eyes were saying what they weren't, Conner's daring Tim to go further with Tim wondering if he should. This whole thing felt strange, like it was part of a dream he was going to wake up from any moment.

"I may have lost an important client over all this," he said, his fingers going to the deep cleft between Conner's impressive chest muscles. "Being honest with the world and all."

"If they're going to leave over your being honest, were they worth having?"

"Jacob said the same thing."

"Jacob?" There was a tinge of annoyance in Conner's voice.

"My assistant. He's been telling me the same thing for the last two weeks."

"Smart guy," Conner nodded. "I'd listen to him."

Tim stepped into the cone of light, near enough to Conner to feel the tremendous heat coming off of this body. He touched the smooth line of the hard jaw, following it up to the lobe of his ear and into his hair. Both he and Conner were quiet for the next few minutes, the sounds of their heartbeats the only one they shared. Tim stood up on his toes to kiss Conner's full lips, a quick, sweet kiss.

"Thank you for coming," he said in a low whisper. "I wasn't sure how you were going to react to the article. I was afraid you were going to be mad."

"Oh, I'm mad all right, just not for the reasons you think." Conner's hands slid down the sides of Tim's naked body, settling on his hips. "I'm mad at myself for not acting on how I felt a lot sooner than now."

"Are you mad at me?"

"A little. You could have talked to all of us about this, you know. Instead, we had to find out something really personal about you from a magazine article."

"It just slipped out. I was talking about my personal life, about the stress I was under and it just came out without me knowing what I had said. That led to the celebrity pass question."

Between them, Conner's jeans fell further on his hips, freeing his erection. He smiled. "Sorry. It just slipped out."

"What do we do about it?"

The larger of the two pulled the smaller one closer, engulfing him in thick, strong arms. His head bent down and he began kissing along Tim's neck, delivering little shivers as his mouth moved up. "Are we here alone?"

"Security is walking the downstairs floors. We're alone for the next half hour or so."

"Take my pants off," Conner whispered, kissing the sensitive area behind Tim's ear.

Tim was already pushing the denim the rest of the way down the trim hips. "Do you always get your way by being this bossy?"

"No. I get my way by being this sexy."

Conner shook his lower body just enough for his jeans to fall around his ankles. Kissing Tim, he managed to get free of them, then began walking the two of them forward until they hit a wall. His mouth did not stop moving, nor did Tim's hands. They kissed and groped one another, each one attempting to touch and kiss every part of the other.

Tim felt the rush of a long-time fantasy beginning to take shape, as well as the fear of something going wrong afterward. They worked together, their actions outside of this place would have consequences. Still, his body was making quite an argument for throwing all of those concerns right out the window and letting Conner have his way with him. Before, when Draco was here, all he could think of was Conner, even though the blond's hands were the ones on his body. During the _Attitude_ shoot, when Draco was touching him, he thought of Conner. Now, he had the real thing in front of him and he did not have to rely on fantasy.

His right leg rose up as Conner turned them into the corner. "I want you," he managed to say without choking on his words. "I've always wanted you."

Those words fueled their lust. Conner's hands slid down Tim's back as Tim's legs rose up on his hips. Using the slick liquid oozing from the head of his cock, Conner began priming the right ring between Tim's firm ass cheeks. He was gentle there but rough in his insistent kissing and biting of Tim's tender lips and neck. In this moment, nothing tasted better than the smooth skin, damp with nervous perspiration. As he kissed, Tim's body became less rigid and far more pliant. Still, he did not rush anything about what he was doing. This was going to be the perfect expression of how they felt toward one another, one they would remember for years to come. Only when his fingers slid forward without any hesitation or resistance did he withdraw them in favor of the blunted head of his cock. It was placed at the entrance, part tease, part opportunity for Tim to back out. When the relaxed ring slid down over the head, Conner knew the decision was made.

"Don't...hold back," Tim said, a knowing smirk on his handsome face.

"You set the pace and I'll make sure I won't."

With both legs around Conner's waist, Tim took the lead, using his upper torso to push down on the surprising girth seeking to invade him. He could not help but smile as he felt his insides being filled. Conner's strong arms were braced in the corner, allowing him to do all the work. His own shoulders were also braced in the corner, giving his lower body the freedom to move his hips. Conner's entire length took some time to get inside of him and he was going to relish every inch. With his eyes lost on the smooth skin and curving muscles, he filled himself in the best way possible.

His whole body was locked in place, legs and arms spread, his back straight and still. Conner made a framework out of himself, one Tim could use to maneuver on. The amazing sensations going through him as Tim's legs rubbed against his hips, as his heels dug into the cushion of his asscheeks, they were almost as good as the tightness closing over his cock. Best of all was the lustful, drunken look on Tim's handsome face as he filled himself. He wanted to kiss him, to take the pouty bottom lip between his teeth and pull on it in a playful way but watching Tim take him was far more desirable. The pleasured sigh when he had it all up in him was even more so.

"Like it?"

"Oh, yeah," Tim sighed, letting his head rest against the wall.

"Show me how to do you," Conner told him, kissing his forehead, then his nose, then capturing his mouth. "Show me how to make you feel amazing."

Realization dawn on Tim's face as he began moving his hips in a low, easy motion. The full length slid out of him and he focused on the few inches which gave him the most pleasure. Conner's size was more than he thought, more than he could handle in this position so he took what he could and enjoyed it. Taking hold of Conner's nipples, he tugged on the sensitive nubs until they hardened, then he gave them each a playful pinch, enough to make the muscled hero gasp.

"How is it you can stop a truck and not flinch but this makes you gasp?"

Dipping his head, Conner kissed Tim again. "Intention," he said with a smile. "One intends to hurt me in a different way than the other."

A few more moments of Tim's lower body instructional and Conner slipped both hands under the firm ass, taking them out of the corner and into the air again. Leaning back, he brought his knees up, giving Tim something to lean against. Putting both arms behind his back, he watched the slender body begin bucking up and down on him. Tim's knees dug into his side as he began riding harder. Conner's lower body was assaulted, Tim's hands pulling on his hips, grinding with his own. Both of them were awash in waves of intense pleasure of their own making.

Dark hair fell into Tim's eyes as he rode the hard length. Glancing at the floor some few feet below them, he grinned at their placement. _Leave it to Superboy to make even this experience unforgettable_ , he thought, pushing himself down further each time. The hard muscle on Conner's torso tightened each time he sank down, letting him know this was as good for him. Each upward motion of his hips made him gasp or sigh.

"I think you've got it now," Tim said, leaning down and kissing the hard cleft of Conner's chest. "Why don't you take over."

"Yeah?" Conner asked, already rising.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Conner nodded, a playful look of defiance on his face. "Yeah. You do. I wanna hear you say it."

"All right. Use your hot muscled body for something other than stopping trucks! Use it on me, anyway you like! Fuck me, Superboy!"

"What a dirty mouth you have, Mr. Drake!"

Holding him by the waist, Conner flew Tim into a nearby wall, forcing the full length of his cock forward. As they impacted, his partner gasped in a good way. A few long strokes and he turned them toward a stand-alone cubicle wall. This impact cracked the thing down the center and made Tim sigh. Heels dug into his ass, letting Conner know he was doing things just the right way. Lowering themselves to the floor, he increased his thrusts until his pubic hair scraped Tim's ass each time he thrust inside him. This brought them both to a point where they had to pause for fear of exploding before they were ready. Conner's mouth found Tim's and they shared long, deep kisses in the meantime.

Conner's hard body flexed as he got to his knees, his hips working back and forth in a low, easy motion. Tim's right leg stayed around his waist but the left one fell away. He was going to use what little leverage he could to push into the thrusts. Bringing himself up onto his elbows, he could watch Conner's internal struggle on whether to go full out or take his time. Tim enjoyed watching this because it told him there was more at work here than lust. Conner continued to feed his lust, true enough, but he tempered it with compassionate kisses and playful bites to Tim's neck and both of his nipples.

It was with his mouth full of the latter that he brought them up off the floor and forward, into the side of a desk. Tim gasped, feeling the hardness fill him. "Bugger me," he whispered, gripping Conner's shoulder and pushing back against the next thrust.

"Bugger, huh?" Conner asked, still thrusting them forward until they hit another of the standalone walls. "That's...new."

Tim bowed his back, pushing down. "Foreign...influence."

Getting to his feet, the muscular hero held the other by the hips. Tim's heels slid down the backs of his legs, like a sexual spider monkey, desperate to hang on. Walking them further, he took hold of one of the support beams while working his full length deeper into the tight sleeve Tim offered. His balls tightened, drawing in against his groin. His breathing became shallow as he started increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Sighs turned to groans as Conner's hips got faster. Finding himself atop a desk one minute, then pinned to the wall the next made Tim groan, as well. The depth and speed of Conner's thrusts into him varied according to where they were and how stable the area was. This sort of attention to their surroundings was another indication Conner cared more for Tim's safety than his own pleasure.

Near the window, the super boy's threshold for restraint reached its limit. One hand took hold of the window frame while the other held Tim's waist. His knee pressed against the glass, as did Tim's back and ass. Conner's other foot was on the floor, steadying his hard body as he delivered the last few thrusts of his hips. Inside, he felt the full length of his cock expand.

"Oh..." Tim gasped, feeling the same thing.

"Yeah," Conner growled.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah!"

The first volley of cum hit what Tim felt was his throat. "God, this is...amazing! You _feel_ amazing!" He meant the lust-fueled words coming out of his mouth. His body was alive all over from the well-kissed length of his neck to the ends of each of his curled toes.

Pinned between their sweaty bodies, Tim felt his own shaft swell. Until now, he had not realized how hard he was, how excited his own dick was at all this. Just as Conner's cock released its second burst of hot cum, his own dick released itself. Thick ropes of liquid splashed the two of them, connecting their bodies by thick ropes of cum. Neither of them stopped pressing against the other, even after the glass around Conner's palm spider-webbed outward.

"Fuck, that was..."

"Intense," Tim finished.

Conner answered this by taking Tim's mouth with his own again. This kiss was deeper than the others, more intense. It conveyed all of the feelings the powerhouse could not with words or actions. As his lips moved, his tongue slipped into the other's mouth, anxious to know what his desire tasted like. Tim felt the passion go through him, making him shudder. He held to Conner's broad shoulders as he returned the kiss with everything he could. Inside of him, he felt the full length of cock, unwilling to go down, even with his recent load cooling. This was what he envisioned his first time with his long-time crush would be like, intense and passionate.

"You all right?" Conner asked, leaning back.

"I'm way more than all right."

Light kisses fell on Tim's neck as Conner eased himself back. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No more than I wanted you to."

Conner brought them into a nearby office chair, the weight of his body pushing it into a desk. "You're sure? The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

Adjusting himself, Tim kissed him. "I'm good. Really, I am."

Conner wrapped his arms around the other's lean body, bringing their chests together. Tim's head tucked under his chin, one hand coming to rest on his chest. A few pieces of broken ceiling tiles fell to the floor as the two caught their breath.

***

The following day, Tim stepped out of the elevator to find the large plastic partitions back in place and the work crew doing minor clean up on what was once again the lobby.

"What are they doing back? I thought they were working in the office space."

Jacob stood nearby. "They arrived to new, and extensive, damage." The boy smiled, holding out  a copy of what Tim knew to be the _Daily Planet_.

They exchanged a glance before Tim took the paper and glanced at its front page. A color photo of Superboy hovering outside the WayneTech building made him lose all coherent thought and speech for the moment.

"Dating?" Tim asked, when he found his voice. "Does this say...we're dating?"

Jacob just nodded.

"How did this...who wrote this?"

The assistant tapped the bottom of the article. "Clark Kent. There's an online version with a few more photos of Superboy being let into the building. Outside security cameras caught the entrance – and the exit. The one where Superboy is leaving holding his shirt...and your tie."

"You're not serious!"

"I wish I wasn't. Also, Mr. Wayne has called twice this morning."

"Oh, god. Is he pissed?"

"It's hard to tell with him. He sounds the same whether he's angry or not."

 "I did not need this, today."

"One other thing you're not going to need. Ms. Klein is waiting in your office."

"I'm going to need something stronger than coffee this morning," Tim said, handing the paper back. "Issue a broad, _no comment_ to anyone calling here about this. I am not going to give anyone the satisfaction of making me the day's soundbyte. I'll return Mr. Wayne's call as soon as I deal with Ms. Klein and whatever might have brought her here."

Coming into the office, Tim's senses were assaulted by the electric green dress Velvet Klein was wearing. Its collar was as high as the neckline was low. Her hair was piled on her head in large ringlets. When she saw him, she gave him a broad, knowing smile.

"Darling! Not only do you have bravery, you have excellent taste in young men! Superboy! To think of the heights he must be able to take a body!"

"What can I do for you, Ms. Klein? Velvet?"

She brought out a slender pad and placed it on the desk. "I'm having a little difficulty with the device and its auto upgrade."

"Why? I thought you said the software was working just the way you wanted."

"It is but there is a problem when it upgrades." She tapped the screen. "It's linking back to WayneTech for the information it needs and, well, you can see what happens then."

On the screen, Tim watched Superboy fly up to the window where he surprised him the night before. Velvet's manicured nail tapped the information at the bottom of the screen. He felt his stomach drop into his shoes.

"It's linking the device to the security cameras." She said, no trace of malice in her voice. "You mentioned this being new software. Have you installed it on any other devices like mine?"

"Just one," Tim said, going over to his desk. "Could you excuse me just one minute? I need to make a phone call. If you could wait outside with my assistant?"

"Of course," she said, already walking toward the door.

The device he made for Velvet Klein used the same sort of upgrade systems as the device he personalized for Clark and the Titans. If they were all linking to the WayneTech security servers, it would explain how the camera footage made its way to the others. It would also mean Bruce had seen it firsthand, just like the others did. he dialed the number, cursing himself for not being more careful. No wonder Bruce had called twice already. He was pissed, and for good reason.

"Tim. I was just going to call you...again," Bruce said when he answered. "Your assistant said you received the package I sent but that you hadn't opened it."

"A lot has been happening, I just didn't have time. I wasn't ignoring you."

"I can see from today's headline in the _Planet_ a lot has been happening. If you had taken the time to open the package, you would have seen I sent the corrected schematics for the security portion of the new personal devices."

"Right. I'm sorry. I'll open it right now and start making the changes to the code."

"No need. After getting the security footage, I implemented the changes via the special uplink. I've also deleted the copies of the footage from the team's devices. Ms. Klein's will be gone by the end of this phone call. You're welcome."

"Thank you."

"In the future, you might want to examine your priorities. It's important to keep your head in the business at hand. On a side note, I wanted to tell you I was very proud of your Attitude interview. You showed genuine courage."

"You...read that?"

"Alfred told me about it," Bruce said, deflecting. "The part about your celebrity pass, he said, was quite the highlight."

"Look, I wanted to explain...about Superboy."

Bruce broke in before he had a chance. "I guess I'm going to have to make an exception to the no-metas rule, aren't I?"

- ******* -

 


	2. Taken by Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A move against Tim Drake changes everything for those he leaves behind!

After reading the _Attitude_ article, Draco Malfoy tossed the magazine onto the nearby table. More than before, his mind centered on Tim Drake but not the pointed  businessman he read about. Instead, he thought of the slim, lean-bodied, somewhat skittish young man he undressed at the photo  shoot. Underneath the calm exterior, he sensed a nervous little bird confronted with a dangerous predator. Draco wanted to be that predator, tearing away the modest briefs and devouring every inch of Tim's beautiful body.

Leaning against the railing, He thought he might have the opportunity in the fleeting moment when Parker changed out his battery. Tim's lower stomach flexed at his touch, quivered even. Draco remembered touching his hip, pressing their bodies together. Tim pressed his back against him so it eased into his chest. This gesture instigated their further, much closer contact.

"I should have buggered the little bird when I had the chance," Draco said, an appreciative smile on his handsome face. "I should have torn those ridiculous briefs away and fucked his tight little ass while Parker watched – or joined in."

Smiling at the idea, he gazed out at the city's gargoyle-lined rooftops and towering buildings, musing on the missed opportunity. In a day's time, Tim would be back in Gotham and because Draco continued to plow the assistant, Jacob, this meant he would be able to stroll into _Wayne Tech_ whenever he wanted to see Tim. He imagined having him tied to the silver frame of an expensive rack where he would cut away the expensive clothes to reveal the milk-white body beneath. Then, he would ravage Drake until he begged to be fucked.

"Even if I'm not Superboy," Draco said aloud, his voice lost in the gentle wind.

***

Tim was met by an immaculate Jacob Abernathy, dressed in a tailored gray suit with white shirt and tie. A loud yellow pocket square broke the stark coloring. Jacob's brown hair was cut short, the bangs laid to the side. He stood with one hand behind his back, the other holding a series of contracts. Light brown eyes met Tim, conveying calm and reason while Tim's own were unreadable. Stepping out of the elevator, he noticed the lack of employees and noise.

"Mr. Wayne is in the building." Jacob's explanation came with a quick head-jerk to the new conference room behind the stand-alone wall. "He's been meeting with employees all morning. I don't know what it's about but I'm sure it isn't bad."

"It might not be but it's important or Bruce wouldn't be here." Tim took the contracts. "He knows I'm going to be out for the afternoon, doesn't he?"

"He does. That's why his contract is on top for immediate signature. If you have a pen, I can rush it in while you take your first meeting."

"Already? I haven't even had – this isn't Ms. Klein, is it?"

"No. She is scheduled for around eleven to discuss the final portion of your app deal. She's called to confirm so she'll be here around ten-thirty, knowing her." Jacob smiled. "Best conclude your business right away unless you want to be front page news again."

Tim began walking. "About that, did you ever get through to Clark Kent? It's not like him to write a gossip-y sort of column like the one announcing Superboy being in the building. There has been no contact on my end."

"He said he would talk to you about this at the Christmas charity ball."

"God, no. I do not want to go—"

"It's imperative you do not finish that sentence. You know Wayne Enterprises hosts the ball. It would look awful if you weren't in attendance."

"Damn it. I better not be going alone. Dick is a public face of Wayne Ent. too."

"Mr. Grayson confirmed a day after the ball was announced. Mr. Wayne has already extended your plus-one and accepted on behalf of Mr. Pennyworth. It doesn't look like you have much of a choice."

"All right. Send my acceptance and book an appointment with a tailor. I'm not showing up in last year's tux. I might hate going to these things but if I'm going to have to go, I might as well look fantastic."

When they reached the door of the office, Jacob stopped and produced a pen. "I'll be accepting for Mr. Kent too, right? Your plus one would be the person you're dating, in reality, wouldn't it?"

"Excellent detective work," Tim said, signing Bruce's contract. "Has Mr. Parker called?"

"I'll text you the details as soon as I have them."

Jacob took the signed contract, handed over the other ones, and opened the office door for Tim. Coming inside, he closed the door after himself. Dread gave way to unexpected relief at the sight of Draco Malfoy coming from his washroom. Making eye contact with Tim, the blond let his hand linger on the fastening of his pants. He smiled.

"Sorry, I came unannounced. It's important you and I have some time to ourselves."

"Why do we need time to ourselves, Mr. Malfoy?"

"So many ways to answer such a loaded question. The simple answer is, business."

"WayneTech is a software and hardware company. Malfoy Incorporated deals in production, shipping, and distribution. We have no similar business interests."

"Which is why I'm here." Draco came to the edge of the desk where he lingered. "My father has given me a rather strange directive. I'm to expand into other areas, ones which will increase our public presence and, of course, turn a profit. I was thinking you and I could work together for our mutual benefit on this."

"Sixty-forty with _WayneTech_ announcing first and _Malfoy Inc_. handling all European press. United Kingdom distribution would be reversed, as it would be your home territory, as it were. _WayneTech_ picks up the American press for when you release."

Draco chuckled. "Are you always so decisive? We haven't even decided on a product, yet you have all the business specs at the ready."

"Yes, I am always this decisive. I have to be."

Coming around the desk, Draco stepped up to Tim and slid two fingers under his tie just under the knot. When this met with no resistance, he put his other hand on Tim's waist. He leaned in to inhale the warm scent of soap, sweat, and the barest hint of cologne. Two fingers slid into the top of the black suit pants. Draco nuzzled Tim's face and purred into his ear.

"I like people who know what they want."

Tim removed the hand from his waist. "I know you do. The problem is, you never act until the person you like has a very large, very powerful boyfriend who doesn't like to share."

"Your muscled-up boy-toy is laughable in all the ways that matter. I'll bet the git can't even string together a coherent sentence without being prompted what to say."

"You'd be surprised what he can string together."

Draco straightened Tim's tie again, then took a step back. "I should have bent you across one of those tables at the photoshoot and fucked you senseless."

This time, Tim chuckled. "Maybe you should have but you didn't. I'm afraid the opportunity has passed you by. Now, do you want to discuss business or continue making a fool of yourself?"

"Fool? The only fool I see is the one who just turned me down." Draco's hand smoothed Tim's shirt. "Since you're not spending the rest of the morning riding me, see what you can come up with for a new venture I'm going to call _Slither In_ – a different sort of social platform which connects like-minded individuals in discrete ways. Security will be its most important feature."

"You want your grand project to be a dating app?"

"No, this is a side project, one I'm working on just for me. We'll use it as a test run for our public venture. Work out the platform specs and send it to my penthouse. I'll be there for the next two weeks before flying back to London."

"Any special features?"

"Several," Draco answered with a smile.

"Could you focus, please?"

"For your purposes, think of those in relationships involving Domination and submission, leather, and intimate devices." Draco's smile widened as he began walking toward the door. " _Focus_ on what such a site would require for it to remain anonymous and secure." At the door, he paused. "Just imagine yourself using the site. What would you do to keep such a delicious, decadent side of yourself a secret?"

Left alone to think, Tim was breathless at the boldness of the encounter. A large part of him felt the need to take a cold shower, although he would never admit it. A sliver of his inside self wanted to call Conner and tell him about the encounter, just so he could witness the reaction. Conner had a jealous streak as long as this building was tall but he also had a kinky side and it would have been interesting to see which one won out over the other. Would he want to pound the blond into a grease smear on the wall or would he want to be in the room when Draco tried to enact his _wishes_?

Deciding it was an inner debate for another time, he sat down and opened his laptop. The _WayneTech_ screen appeared. When it faded, he began thumbing through his contacts, stopping on a message sent from Peter Parker. Before he could give it any attention, his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming message. Instead of reading it, he hit the call button. Peter Parker answered.

"I sent over the details, like you wanted."

Tim smiled. "I just got it in the morning mail. Do you have any questions about the contract?"

"This isn't the first time I've dealt with nondisclosure contracts, Mr. Drake. They're pretty straightforward and I don't expect any underhandedness coming from you."

"Good to know I'm trustworthy."

"I'll look over the details you sent, have a look at this contract, and get back with you later on this morning. If it's all right with you, I'll messenger the contract to you once it's signed."

"Or, you could take me up on lunch and hand deliver it," Peter counter-offered.

"Mr. Wayne is in the office today and I'm not looking forward to any run-ins with him. I'll meet you at the corner of Twelfth and Myers for lunch."

After hanging up with Peter, Tim made a second call to Conner. The idea of telling him about Draco's visit still swam around in his head but he stayed on task. They talked over their individual plans for the day before Tim shifted their conversation around to the contract on his desk.

"It's pretty standard, no hidden pitfalls I need to call a lawyer about. I'm meeting Peter for lunch if you want to join us, you can sign it then."

"Sure, I don't have anything going on today unless there's a break-in somewhere or somebody does something stupid."

The tone in Tim's voice shifted to one of careful mischief. "I had a strange visitor waiting in my office when I got here this morning."

"Yeah, who?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Silence. Then, Conner asked, "Do I need to worry?"

With a grin, Tim lowered his voice. "He told me he should have bent me across one of the tables at the magazine photoshoot."

Conner's voice was lower. "And?"

"Then fucked me senseless. Direct quote."

"Would you have let him?"

_Moment of truth_ , Tim thought to himself. "It's possible."

"This Parker guy would have been there."

"Yeah, he would have been."

"Taking pictures."

"Yep." Tim leaned back in his chair.

"There would have been pictures of Draco Malfoy...fucking you."

"Lots of pictures."

Conner paused, taking an audible breath. "Hard, I bet. He doesn't seem like the sort to do anything soft and gentle-like."

"You're right. He's a pretty rough sort."

"Would you have still had your shirt and tie on?"

Tim smiled, liking where this conversation was going. "Coat, too, I'm sure. The underwear I was wearing didn't have a back, just straps curving under my butt."

"Meaning he just had to get you in position against one of the tables and slide up inside you."

"Yep. Nothing to stop him from fucking me."

"Hard," Conner said, his increased breathing heard through the phone. "Like I fuck you."

"Nobody could fuck me like you do." Tim cupped his growing erection through his pants.

"You're damned right they couldn't."

"So aggressive," Tim said, easing his zipper down.

"I could be there in a few minutes if you'd like a demonstration, free of charge."

Firm fingers closed around his erection, Tim's eyes fluttering closed as he leaned further back in the chair. Conner proceeded to tell him of the many positions he would bend him body into, the depth and speed at which he would deliver a firm, sound fucking of his ass. Tim's hand moved in time with Conner's voice, imagining the broad body pressed hard against him while his own was pinned to the desk or the chair he sat in. Tim pictured himself on his back, his legs spread wide and held to the desk while Conner pummeled him. His hand brought his dick to a special kind of hardness as Conner's language got more and more base. Clark would not approve – or maybe he would. He had to learn those words somehow, Tim thought with a wry smile as he stroked himself.

"...plow up into your hole," Conner went on, an edge to his voice.

"What if I wanted you to stop?"

"You never want me to stop plowing you, slut," Conner told him, his tone decisive.

The door to the office opened and Bruce strode toward Tim's desk with purpose. In the few seconds he had to right himself, Tim managed to do so without throwing himself into the floor. His hand caught the side of the desk, his erect dick now hidden but still drooling. On the phone, Conner was still giving explicit details on how hard he would deliver his passionate blows. In a personal feat of some skill, Tim still held the phone.

"I'm going to have to call you back," he told Conner, cutting him off.

"Aw, man. It's Bruce, isn't it?"

"It is."

"His timing sucks! All right, I'll see you for lunch...right after I jerk off!"

Eyeing Bruce, who now stood with his hands in his pockets on the other side of the desk, Tim could not help himself. "No, don't do that. We'll take care of it later."

"That an order...sir?"

"It is," Tim said, allowing himself a small smile. "See you for lunch."

As Tim was slipping the phone into its cradle on the desk, Bruce arched a knowing eyebrow at him. "Did I interrupt an important call, Mr. Drake-Wayne?"

***

Reclined on a deep purple sofa, his naked body exposed for everyone to see, Tommy Terror watched the news clip of Tim Drake's unveiling of the _Velvet Touch_ application. Beside Tim on the dais, a woman in a startling red and blue hat explained the features of the fashion-based app and how it would benefit the online user. Tim stood with his hands to his sides, letting the woman speak. Tommy tilted his head as if to get a better view of Tim.

"Well, I'll be...ain't he a pretty one."

"He, who?" Asked the kneeling boy between Tommy's impressive thighs.

"Hush, now," the massive blond said, taking hold of the boy's head. "You just go on back to what you was doing. Tommy's got a new project brewing around in his noggin'." The larger male eased the boy's mouth back onto his glistening shaft. "That there Pretty would be all kinds of fun to play with!"

On the screen, Tim took up the explanation of the finer points of the app while Velvet Klein yielded the platform to him. Watching how Tim's dress shirt clung to his frame, the way the open V at the collar revealed smooth, pale skin excited the nude blond. A choked sound came from the boy on his knees, one followed by a muffled question.

"Tommy said hush, boy! You just need to get goin' on the Tommy Dick so's you can get that hard fuckin' you been after." He brought one leg up on the edge of the sofa, his eyes still on the screen and Tim. "Matter o' fact, why don't you go on and get up on the table, here. Tommy's gonna give it to you right now...while _The Pretty_ talks all nice about nonsense."

Without waiting for the boy to agree or disagree, Tommy hauled him to his feet, then pushed him onto the coffee table. While Tim continued to give the specifics of the deal with Velvet Klein, the massive blond flexed his arms over his head, guiding his hips forward. Just the tip of his plump pricks slid into the brunette, now on his hands and knees.

"Go easy, man!"

"You wasn't sniffin' around Tommy for the last month so's Tommy could _go easy_. This here is why you wanted Tommy." Rising up on one leg, the blond delivered more of himself. "You didn't want all this, you should have stayed where you was. Instead, you crawled to Tommy and begged for the Tommy Dick to do just what it's doing!"

"Fuck," the brunette groaned.

"What'd you say? Tommy was busy watching The Pretty to hear you."

"FUCK!"

The broad-bodied blond increased the rhythm of his hips. "Yeah...that's what Tommy thought you said."

All while he watched Tim conclude the press conference, Tommy Terror showed the kneeling boy why he was called what he was. At the end of the clip, the blond hit the arrowed circle, starting the clip again. This time, when Tim's pale skin came into view, Tommy's thrusts increased, causing the brunette beneath him to cry out, clutch the sides of the coffee table, and all but beg to be let up. This did not happen until the fifth viewing of the press conference, when the muscled male felt his length swell inside the boy. At the end of the clip, Tim looked into the closest camera and smiled. Tommy lost himself in the smile, exploding inside the boy.

"Damn..." the brunette sighed, exhausted.

"Tommy's done with you. You can go now, Dustin."

"It's Justin," the spent boy corrected.

"Tommy don't care. Go back and sing your little songs. Looks like Tommy's got some plannin' to do if the new Pretty is gonna come play."

***

In the seat across from Tim, Peter Parker flipped through the contract. "I just want to make sure we've done everything the right way. I don't want this to come back and bite us both."

"I understand."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Peter tapped the last page for emphasis. "It's a very public statement to make and once it's made, you can't take it back."

"I don't have any reason to take it back. It's a true statement, after all."

"What about you?" Peter asked, looking at the other male. "You're not a public figure. Some people aren't going to like this because it will put you out in the world in a big way. Once this goes to print and it hits online, you can't every take it back."

Conner smiled, taking Tim's hand. "I'm all right with this. It was only a matter of time until my life was out in the open anyway."

Peter lowered his voice. "A lot of people are going to see these photos. They're going to be able to examine them – close up. You don't wear a mask...Mr. Kent."

"Which is why we're trusting you, Mr. Parker," Tim said, drawing the focus back to him. "We are taking precautions to make sure no one connects Superboy and Conner Kent."

"Could I ask what those precautions are?"

"You can ask but considering your expanding role in our lives, it might be best for you not to know."

People moved around them in the diner, all going about the business of life. Peter observed these people for a while before turning his attention back to the two brunette males in front of him. He considered what they told him, what Tim had been telling him for some months now, since the last _Attitude_ shoot. Already, he was going through angles, filters, and tricks he could employ to deliver just what was being asked of him.

"Two questions before we start. One, why choose _Attitude_ to announce your relationship?"

"They were classy with the last piece they did on me. I figure they'll be classy with this, too."

Conner smiled. "And, their photographer is cute."

"I'm flattered. Question two, why do you want to do the other?"

"We thought it would be fun," Tim answered with a smile. "Not only for us but for people like us who think everything about their lives has to be secret."

"But your other identities are secrets."

"So we can _have_ lives," Tim said, nodding.

Peter took a pen from his jacket pocket and signed his name on the last line of the contract. He then held out the pen for either of the others. "I think we have a deal Mr. Drake, Mr. Kent."

"Excellent," Tim said, taking the pen. "I can't wait to get started on this."

***

Nightwing stood on the edge of the _Gotham Finance_ building, a chilled evening wind whipping at the flag overhead. Across the cityscape, lights went on and off, making them appear to twinkle. For the last few minutes, he kept his mouth closed and his mind open. Behind him, looking stern and sounding tough, Red Hood did the opposite. Ever since the subject first arose, he had been giving his side of the debate in a very forceful manner.

"Tell me  you're at least thinking about it."

"I wasn't until you started talking about it."

The helmeted hero shook his head. "You are being so stubborn!"

Turning, Nightwing dropped from the ledge onto the roof. "I am being practical! We can't just announce who we are without any thought to the others. We have to know we can trust him more than we trust anyone else before giving him that kind of power over us."

"We've already given him power over us." Jason pointed out. "In fact, we've given him enough power to help us understand ourselves and our individual kinks. I mean, I get turned on by being reduced to a dog and you like being slut-shamed! I mean, you _really_ like being slut-shamed!"

"This is serious! We're not talking about shoving sex toys up our asses and trusting him not to turn them on in the middle of a situation where people could be killed if we fuck up! This is about trusting him with a secret that could destroy not just us but everyone we're connected with!"

"You don't trust him, then? Is that it?"

Facing into the wind, the hero let his hair blow out from his face. "Not all together, no. He keeps things from us, things he shouldn't. If we're going to go further into this thing with him, we have to be upfront with each other – all of us."

"Besides the obvious, what does he keep from us that you want him to tell us about?"

"His dealings with _LexCorps_ , for one. It bothers me for him to be mixed up with a shark like Lex while telling us his company deals with only ethical and honest entities."

The Red Hood removed the helmet. " _Wayne Enterprises_ deals with the same company but you're not reading Bruce the same riot act over it. Tim either."

"They do business with Lex to keep an eye on him."

"Maybe Draco has other reasons for what he does, too. The point is, you don't know what's in the man's head – just what's in his pants."

Nightwing whirled on his partner, giving him a hard shove. "Fuck's sake! I told you, this is serious!"

"You know what else is serious? My fucking hard-on! Let's get off this goddamned roof and back to the apartment. I want you to plow my ass."

"Good god, man! We have forty more minutes of patrol until the others take over. You can last another forty minutes!"

The hero crossed the short expanse, grabbed Nightwing by the back of his head, and smashed their mouths together in a hard kiss. His free hand rubbed hard on the front of the black bodysuit, finding the rising manhood beneath it. As their kiss deepened, Nightwing groaned into the molestation of his body and  mouth. When his tongue was engaged, he held onto the back of the other man's head. Need overtook his sense of dedication to their city.

"All right..." Nightwing breathed, still allowing the rubbing of his crotch. "Put the call in to the others, tell them we have an emergency and have to go in early. This talk about Draco and us, though...it's not finished. There is a lot more we need to discuss."

A rough, stubbly chin ran down the length of his throat. "I know – but later. Right now, I just want to ride your cock until you blow a hard load up inside me."

Nightwing smiled. "You sweet talker, you."

***

Dressed in a black suit with a bright blue shirt and tie, Jordan stood outside the main conference room with his phone poised in one hand. Members of the _Wayne Enterprise_ board were finishing the last few details of their meeting, their chairman standing from his chair. Bruce Wayne cut quite the dashing figure in his own black suit and white shirt and tie. Jacob waited for the nod before coming into the room, calling up important information on his phone.

"One last thing, ladies and gentlemen," Bruce said, calling their attention. "I want you all to be aware of something before it becomes public record. It's come to my attention we've been receiving some bad press regarding Mr. Drake-Wayne's announcement some months back and even more since he announced his liaison with a certain super-being. I have chosen a very specific course of action in dealing with this and I'd like to share this with you."

A video began playing on the screen in the center of the wall behind the man. It was a series of news clips involving Tim addressing the public on behalf of WayneTech. Intercut among them were pictures of charity organizations where Tim put himself on the front line of a soup kitchen, toy drive, and other similar things. Bruce narrated each of the individual slides as they appeared.

"Where is all of this going, Bruce?" One of the board members asked. "So the boy's gay – it's a changing world. We're not going to hang him from the top story and let the crows pick at him."

"Nor did I think we're going to, Jerry. This is a promotional video for a decision Tim and I are making for the future of _WayneTech_." Bruce paused, indicating the change in the tone of the video. "We're bringing in another aspect to the company which will mean added revenue. This requires no vote of approval from the board but it does require you all being aware of it when it hits the media."

"Which it will within a few weeks," Jacob added.

The video concluded with the _Wayne Enterprises_ logo in the center of the screen. Bruce turned to face the members of the board of directors. He opened the floor to questions, then fielded the few which came. At the conclusion of the meeting, each of them began filing out the door. Bruce waited until the room was empty to address Jacob.

"Questions, Mr. Abernathy?"

"Just one. Why haven't you told Mr. Drake-Wayne about this?"

"At present, he doesn't need to know. I'll tell him before the announcement is made. I trust I can count on you to be discrete and keep this confidential." It was not a question. Bruce put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I intend to bring all of my family home."

***

One week after signing the contract with Peter Parker, Tim let himself be driven to a prearranged location. From the front seat, Alfred offered no commentary but Tim knew he was waiting for the right moment to voice it. As they turned into the vacant lot, the stoic man brought the car to a stop. Before Tim could open the door, the locks on the vehicle activated. Alfred did not turn from the driver's seat nor did he make any attempt at eye contact.

"I would never assume to interfere in the affairs of others. This said and understood, you are faced with a choice of directions upon which to plant your feet. Mr. Kent has the benefit of being invulnerable, in a very literal sense. You, on the other hand, are quite vulnerable and in many ways. Should anyone wish harm upon those Mr. Kent cares for, Hell would be unleashed upon them. Should anyone wish harm upon those Mr. Wayne cares for, the same arsenal of eye-beams, excessive strength, and other superhuman abilities is not possible. Take caution in the steps you take from this point forward, sir. Your actions, however well-intended, have consequences."

"I hear you, Alfred."

"Make certain you do, young master. For if my words were to fall on deaf ears and those in this family are injured, I have my own unique arsenal of Hell. Once unleashed, it shall make those others I spoke of seem like a gnat buzzing in a hurricane. "

The locks disengaged. Tim reached for the door. "You know, Alfred, there are times when you can be downright scary."

"Who do you think taught the Batman?"

Tim got out of the car and surveyed the area. Stark, almost barren, it was an abandoned warehouse in the first stages of renovation. With one last glance at his own black vehicle, Tim walked into the building. The lift reminded him of an open crate turned on its side with a rope to pull itself up the shaft. Over time, this would be taken out and replaced with a luxurious elevator, complete with innovative technology and modern features. Stepping into it, Tim pulled down the wooden door, pressed the control panel for the third floor, then braced himself so he would not lose his footing when the thing started to move. A lot of people found these lifts charming but as it screamed its way through the shaft to the floor in question, he found nothing charming about it. In fact, he feared for his life.

Four floors up, the elevator crawled to a halt and Tim raised the door. Ahead, he could hear two voices echoing out into the cavernous upper floor. Deciding neither of them heard him, he opted to keep his approach as quiet as possible. Debris on the floor would make this difficult so he chose his steps with care, going the path which offered less resistance. This brought him up behind a wide, square support beam, which gave him excellent cover. From behind it, he could see out into the room but could not be seen by its two other occupants.

In front of a large grayish-blue background stood a vintage blue settee with a curved back and velvet-like upholstery. A table stood behind it with an odd vase containing an arrangement of dried flowers. Standing in front of this arrangement, clad in just a pair of tight blue briefs, Conner Kent raised one arm and flexed. He turned his head at the same time, bringing his chin down so his hair fell into his eyes. Moving in front of him, Peter Parker snapped a few shots.

"I'll be able to blur out the details of your face easy enough," he said, angling his camera. "Those hard muscles, though, they're going to be the focus of the piece."

"Like 'em?"

Tim smiled, recognizing Conner's _flirting_ voice. From his vantage point, he watched Conner turn his half-naked body toward the most flattering light. White illumination washed out the upper portion of his chest but threw his abs into sharp contrast. Peter captured each ridge and rise with his camera, focusing on the curve of Conner's lower stomach as it disappeared into the briefs. One large hand slid down to cup his ample bulge, a moment Peter caught frame-by-frame. At one point, the photographer lay on his back, his camera pointed up to capture an almost slow-motion movement of Conner giving himself a loving caress. Devilish blue eyes stared down at Peter as the muscular male pivoted on one foot, bringing his other to rest on the photographer's lower stomach.

"I have you right where I want you, Mr. Parker." Conner teased, flexing his bare toes.

"Or maybe I'm right where I wanted to be, Mr. Kent."

Behind the column, Tim felt a fluttering in his stomach. Peter discovered Conner's secret all on his own through careful examination of archive footage of a Titan's battle. Instead of attempting to bribe or blackmail, he came right to Tim's office and disclosed what he found out. It was lucky for the world few other people were so thorough and if they were, had not said anything. Times were changing, in that regard. Not everyone wanted to know every detail of someone's lives to the point they were intrusive about it. Privacy, in some ways, was respected. Peter knowing who Superboy was made for interesting interactions between them when they would run into one another.

"Open your mouth...Peter."

The fluttering in Tim's stomach spread to his groin as he watched Conner drag his bare foot up the photographer's torso, then along his throat so his toes rested on Peter's bottom lip. Tilting his head up, Peter took one into his mouth. Conner smiled. Tim felt his dick throb against the front of his briefs. He loved it when Conner took charge this way. From the bulge in the man's jeans and the enthusiastic sucking of each of Conner's toes, so did Peter.

After each of his toes took a dip in the photographer's willing mouth, Conner changed his position, allowing for the same treatment on his other foot. Peter was just as willing to bathe each digit with his long tongue, all the while taking a few shots of Conner from his unique vantage point.

"You like that a little too much," Conner said with a broad smile. He stood on both feet, his hands roaming the front of his briefs.

"You do too, from the looks of things." Peter snapped several pictures.

Conner's hand held the outline of his dick through his briefs. "Would you like to suck on something a little bigger, with a little more weight to it?"

Tim's heart sped up.

Peter rose up on his arms so his face was even with Conner's ample crotch. "It's not going to cause problems with you and Mr. Drake-Wayne? I don't want to be in the middle of anything."

"Not even me and Tim?" Conner's hand dipped into his briefs. "Those pictures you took of him? They were awesome. Nobody takes pictures like that if they aren't interested in the subject."

"Uh...thanks?"

Conner's smile broadened as he reached for Peter's head. "Don't give me that golly-gee act, Peter. My dad invented it so I can see right through it. You think Tim's hot, just like I do. Don't you?"

Dad, Tim thought, another rush of adrenaline going through him. It was the first time he had heard Conner make such a comparison. Easing down to a crouching position, Tim watched as Conner's expression changed from one of playful superiority to very needy. His free hand brought the front of his briefs away while his other hand brought Peter's mouth in closer to his freed cock. Ever the photographer, Peter shot a few stills of the shaft, then of the head. Putting his camera aside, he took hold of Conner's cock and began nursing the head. Conner closed his eyes at the warmth spreading over his shaft. A single sigh came from his parted lips.

Although eager, Peter took his time in seeing to Conner's entire length. Not one inch went without a kiss, then a few swipes of his tongue. The hard vein along the center received special attention, making it throb all the more. Capping the head with his lips, Peter pushed his mouth down hard, sucking in the soft flesh and making Conner tremble. He cupped Peter's face, holding it still, then began moving his hips back and forth in a slow, easy rhythm.

"If Tim were here, would you do him, too?"

A muffled affirmative sounded out around Conner's cock. Peter's eyes watered as he forced himself down further, choking on the last few inches. One hand held to Conner's hip to steady himself while he readjusted his body. This new angle allowed him to take all of Conner's length, even if he had some difficulty with the girth. When he managed to get his nose into the tangle of dark pubic hair, he swallowed hard around the shaft, causing Conner to groan.

"Wanna stand, Peter?"

Unable to move his head but for the few inches Conner allowed him, the photographer answered with his eyes. At first, when the hard body in front of him began to move, he was not sure what was happening. When the warm shaft slid from his throat, he realized the hard-bodied hero was rising off the floor. To keep it in his mouth, Peter had to stand as Conner rose. With the super boy levitating, Peter found it easier to get the full length of his super shaft in and out of his mouth. The fullness expanded, encouraging him to give it everything he had. His head began moving back and forth until he gagged. Both hands clamped onto the trim hips to keep his balance. He knew he was doing something right byt the sudden swell of the head against his tongue.

"Don't stop," Conner sighed, flexing his toes in midair.

Peter had no intention of stopping. His mouth moved faster. His hands slipped around and held tight to the firm rocks of flesh anyone would call an ass.

"Oh, man...oh, man..." the hero started to chant. "Fuck...oh, fuck...FUCK..."

Tim watched the full-bodied rigor take hold in Conner's hard body. Against the front of his own briefs, his dick throbbed. The blue underwear once holding Conner's cock slipped down his legs, over his calves, and onto the floor. Naked, his godlike body was one long, tapering column of hard muscle, flexing and tensing as he came. Both pearl-like nipples hardened as he began pumping his frothy load into Peter's eager mouth. Tim felt his own body respond, his own dick letting go all on its own. He rode out his orgasm in breathy silence.

***

Jason stepped out of the shower, not bothering with a towel. Water ran from his entire body, pooling on the floor whenever he would stop. Dick remained in the stall, reaching for his towel. It would do him no good to try and argue, even if he wanted to.

"You're just going to have to talk to him. Find out his side of things before you jump to conclusions. It's the fair thing to do and you know it."

Drying his hair, Dick stepped out onto the mat. "I'm not concerned with fair, at the moment."

"Yes you are. You're Dick fuckin' Grayson, you're always concerned with fair."

"Right now, I'm concerned with how this is going to play itself out, long-term. We're almost six months into this thing with Draco and we're still going in, stripping down, fucking half the night away – and we're still wearing our masks the whole time we're there!"

"It's about your not trusting him." Jason stood over one of the floor units, letting the warm air caress his hard, wet body. "You want to but you can't. Since you can't trust him with the little things, you can't trust him with the big things."

"You and I have put ourselves in a very vulnerable position with him, Jason. We agreed to give him our bodies and I had no problem with that but the more time we spend with him, the more of the real self we see and not the arrogant, confident side he shows to the rest of the world, well..."

"The more you want to see."

"Right."

Jason smiled, lifting his balls to get the air on the underside. "You want more from this whole thing, don't you? Not just from him...but from me, too."

"Bruce would have a baby if he knew what we were doing," Dick said, coming over to where Jason stood. "He likes to think we're all like brothers toward one another."

"Oooo, incest." Jason grabbed Dick by the back of his head. "Kiss me, big brother."

Dick stopped him with a hand to the face. "Don't get weird, Jason. I'm serious. You and I have been going at each other now for over two years. Now, there's this thing with Draco Malfoy, holding us closer together, bringing us into a different place with each other. Bruce is not going to be happy."

"Bruce has his own issues; he can't bitch at us for ours. He likes to think of us all as family so he doesn't have to think about how he wants to be in a big Bat-Boy pile-up, letting all of us take turns plowing his ass. Let's not even get started on what he thinks about Clark!"

"You are fucked up, Jason." Dick smiled, leaning into the other man's body.

"No, we're all fucked up! Bruce has serious issues with his own sexuality. You have trust issues. I have abandonment issues. Tim is...well, Tim is his own special brand of crazy – in a cute way. Conner has serious daddy issues, also in a cute way."

"Draco's back in Gotham for the next week. He's staying for the charity Christmas ball at the manor. You know he's going to want us to be at the penthouse tomorrow night."

Jason kissed Dick's throat. "Did I mention you have avoidance issues?"

"We need to talk about what we're going to do."

"I'm going to kiss my way down to your cock where I'm going to swallow it whole, then get it real hard using just my throat and tongue. Then, I'm going to ride you until you paint my insides a nice creamy-white. After, I'm going to lie on my back, spread my legs, and demand you do it again."

"God, will you focus?"

"I _am_ focused! You're the one going on about other shit." Jason's mouth moved to Dick's right nipple where he caught it between his teeth and began tugging on it. "You're not to wear deodorant for the next twenty-four hours, remember."

"Please, Jason – I need you to be serious."

Letting out a long sigh, the other male ran a hand through his dark hair, teasing the white streak into a wet tangle. It took some effort for him to lean back and give the other man his undivided attention but he was able to subdue his libido long enough to do so. Dick gave him a genuine, grateful smile.

"If we're going to reveal ourselves to him, we have to be sure – and Bruce and Tim are never to know what we've done."

"Why would they need to know? I mean, unless The Replacement lets go of the stick lodged in his ass and Bruce gives in to his baser emotions, why would they need to know what we've done with Draco?"

"In case it leads even further than it has, already. Two months in, we were fucking ourselves on double-dildos, each of us taking a turn! Now, six months in, we're talking about giving up our most valued secret to a man we know is colluding with Lex Luthor – and who knows who else! If he's keeping this from us, what else is keeping from us?"

"Here's what we do. You and I go see him, like we always do. We convince him to let us tell him who we are as a gesture of how far we're willing to go for what we're building together. We give him the opportunity to come clean with us, first. If he does, then we go through with unmasking. If he doesn't, we give him another chance by reminding him we're two goddamned fine detectives. If he still doesn't tell us, then we back away."

"We have to be together in this. You can't subvert me."

Leaning forward, Jason pressed gentle lips to Dick's. His kiss was simple and sweet. He prolonged the kiss by several minutes while caressing and stroking Dick's cheeks and neck. At its conclusion, Jason held the other man's face in his hands. "To be serious, you have my complete agreement in this. You don't do it, I don't do it. We do it together or not at all."

"Thank you, Jason. It means a lot for you to be supportive of me in this. If we're going to have more than just a sexual thing with Draco, we have to base it on trust between all of us."

Returning his mouth to Dick's neck, Jason began his previous journey again, kissing down the middle of Dick's chest to his stomach. Sliding one hand up along the inside of his thigh, he nuzzled the soft area just above the pubic region. He paused, his hand still moving. "I like it better before the shower."

"I know you do," Dick said, flinching from the hand moving into his groin. "You're the one who washed it, though, so you have only yourself to blame."

As if in answer, Jason pushed his hand in between Dick's legs, then used the full weight of his body to part them, throwing Dick off-balance. He stumbled back but before he could fall, Jason had him caught up in his strong arms, turning him toward the wall. Both of them slammed hard into the surface. Jason's mouth engulfed the first few inches of Dick's cock while Dick attempting to settle into his new position. A thumb wedged in between his cheeks, finding his pulsing ring. One leg slid over his right shoulder, the other over his left, both heels digging into the center of his back.

"Put me down, Jason..."

"I'll make you a deal. Feed me – and I'll put you down."

Jason's mouth found the slash of Dick's navel, his tongue dipping into it. Fingers tangled in his wet hair and Dick began gyrating his hips in an attempt to hurry along the inevitable. Not one to be rushed, Jason took his time descending, his mouth kissing and biting all the way. His tongue slipped out and around the base of Dick's pulsing cock, causing the other male to squirm. The heels in his back dug deeper as Dick tried to break away. Jason stepped back, dropping him lower on the wall. Using the width of his shoulders, Jason pinned Dick to the wall. Seconds later, he took Dick's cockhead in his mouth and began sucking hard on it.

Over the next few minutes, Jason inched his body away from the wall, bracing with his palms flat against it. His extended arms gave Dick a place to lay back but it took away from his ability to use just his neck to move his mouth. This meant Dick was able to direct the speed and depth at which his shaft entered and exited Jason's warm mouth. Using only his hips, he was able to set up his own pace, one of long, easy strokes which Jason maximized with hard suction and soft flicks of his tongue to the head. Dick held to his head, pulling him down by his hair from time to time. As he often did when pain was involved, the man growled as he worked his mouth over the moving cock, making Dick smile.

"Nice puppy," he said, still working his hips. Jason's growl grew deeper. "Puppy likes his bone, doesn't he? Yes, he does..." Dick tapped the side of the man's face with just his fingers. "How's your bone, Ace? Got it hard, yet?"

_Ace_ got Jason harder than he already was. It was a sort of codeword for him, one that told him Dick was ready for other activities. As much as he loved swallowing this cock, he loved what _Ace_ meant even more. Bringing his head up, he bared his teeth and gave a sharp, throaty bark. He then nuzzled Dick's hard cock, lapping at the drooling head.

"Do it, then," Dick commanded. "What are you waiting on – a written invitation?"

"Let the games begin," Jason growled, smiling.

He eased himself to his knees, bringing his arms down so Dick was lowered to the floor. Once his back touched the baseboard, Jason took advantage of the other man's legs still being hooked over his shoulders. This limited Dick's movement but did not restrict it. Jason brought his own knees up under Dick's ass, hauling him up off the floor enough so his dick rested against the sweet, pulsing pink pucker. Moving his hips, he tapped the tight ring with just the head, spattering it with copious amounts of precum. Dick smiled at him, pushing out.

"Just the tip," the acrobatic male said, making a joke and giving a command.

"Oh, so you want me to torture you?"

"Torture me?" Dick's expression grew hard, his smile even harder. "You think you can torture me with that piece of dog meat?"

Doing as he was told, Jason eased the spongy tip of his dick into the warm hole being offered. A warm, sharp thrill went through him as Dick began his verbal assault. Just the beginning was getting him even harder than before.

"How do you even carry that thing around, anyway? It's got to weigh an easy five pounds by itself! You're one giant freak of nature, you know that? Jason _'Club Cock_ ' Todd, freak of fucking nature! It's too bad you can't get a cock reduction – to make you more normal!"

Jason reddened in the face but his insulted dick throbbed. An odd sort of chill went down his back, spreading through his lower torso. The words were each their own barb going right to his groin. When he was given permission to ease in the head, he was reluctant to do so.

"Afraid it won't fit, Ace?"

A long growl answered the accusation.

"Freak-dicks like yours aren't meant for normal people," Dick grinned, clenching tight around the head. He eased his body down, then back up, teasing the first few inches. "Fuck, _dog_ , do you think all of that hideous beast is going to fit inside me?"

"Yeah," Jason growled, feeling his face flush from embarrassment.

Dick pushed his own hard cock up with his wrist. "See this? It's a normal cock...made for fucking and sucking – not like yours. Normal people love my sweet cock."

Easing himself forward, Jason stretched Dick in a way he knew they both liked. There was always the initial wincing as his girth expanded Dick's hole but this was what made their game so effective. Dick squirmed, angling his shoulder on the floor. His heel dug deep into Jason's back.

"Goddamn...go easy, _freak_! That thing will rip me open!"

Heat rose up in Jason's handsome face, turning his cheeks a dark red. Looking down between them, he watched his fat dick expand as he eased more into Dick. The resulting groan was both good and bad. Embarrassed at having to take things as slow as he did, Jason was also thrilled at the tightness his size provided. Half of his length slid easy enough into Dick but the other half would take some time. He would need to ease it in so to help the process along, he swiped two fingers over Dick's own head and used the liquid to lube himself.

"Yeah, you better do something with it," Dick sneered. "All that isn't going to fit into a normal ass – not that mine is all together normal."

It took some effort to ease the rest of himself into the other man but when he did, Dick sighed. His hand held tight to Jason's neck, holding him still. Jason's coarse pubic hair grazed Dick's smooth ass, a gentle sensation for the recipient. In spite of their rough game, Jason kissed Dick's shoulder, then his throat, then the slope of his jaw. Dick, in keeping with the game, turned his head to avoid being kissed on the mouth. He felt himself being pulled away from the wall, felt his torso being elongated. Having been in this position more than once, he knew what was coming and he relished it.

Jason eased forward, putting both hands on the floor. Bringing his torso into a push-up position, he used one leg to nudge Dick's wider apart. This helped relax the tight ring around his dick. They stayed this way long enough for Dick to adjust to their position.

"Well? You going to fuck me or bore me to death?"

Jason smiled, beginning to work his hips.

"Finally! It moves!" Dick all but groaned.

It took minutes for Jason to establish a rhythm they both enjoyed. Dick turned on his side, one arm hooking around Jason's neck, the other supporting his body weight. Inside his body, he felt every pulse and throb of Jason's length, an advantage to the other man's size. It was too early in the game to moan but he felt it in his chest. Even the more minute motions of Jason's hips caused ripples of pleasure. Minutes later and Jason was delivering several hip-blows to him, forcing the full length inside of him. Again, Dick wanted to moan but he resisted.

"You...fucking... _animal_..." He grunted.

Growling, Jason delivered more of the same, the brunt force of his blows pushing Dick back toward the wall. The floor under them was slick enough for their forward momentum not to be hindered. Grunting, Jason fucked Dick into the wall, then to a kneeling position.

"Oh, yeah, Ace...fuck me," Dick groaned, pushing back. "Brutalize my hole, you fucking _mongrel_!"

In response, Jason bit Dick's shoulder, playing at pulling with his teeth. His hips began a rotational motion, drilling his dick forward. The advantage to his size was, he could pull out halfway and still leave enough of himself in Dick to stir him while leaving enough out to give him a good ramming on the way down. Letting his hips do the work, he could batter Dick for a solid five minutes – which he did. Holding Dick's head to the wall, he kept this up for an additional two minutes before leaning in and kissing the red places where his teeth had been. Their roughness would leave them both bruised but neither cared. Watching Dick's pale skin turn a dark red made him even harder.

Now the one in control, Jason lifted Dick using the backs of his legs. Pinning the other man to the wall, he used his broad chest to secure him. This time, when he delivered his five minute pounding, there were no coherent words from Dick, just moans and whimpers. When Jason forced Dick's leg up so his knee was almost touching his chin, he was self-conscious of the move because it was done to open Dick up to the fullness of his girth. The resulting small sounds Dick made were soothing to his smarting ego.

Dick leaned back, feeling Jason's hard chest pressed against him. His hands reached for hair, flesh, anything of Jason's they could grasp. He turned his head, opened his mouth, and received the other man's hard tongue. Their kiss was hard, like the pounding Jason was giving him. When it ended, Dick was panting, a desperate attempt to draw breath.

"Put...me..down," he managed, pushing back against Jason.

"Or what?" The other male responded, biting at his shoulder.

"I said – put me down, you fucking mongrel!"

Nuzzling Dick's shoulder, Jason continued his anal assault, moving Dick out of their bathroom and into the bedroom. All the while, the acrobatic brunette stayed reclined on his chest. Their fucking continued while Jason walked to the bed. At the edge of it, he pushed Dick forward while withdrawing his hips. Free of the length of cock, the man fell on the bed.

"Aren't you the gentleman?" Dick sneered, rolling onto his back. He was slow to spread his legs. "You going to finish what you started or do I have to get someone smaller to give me what you couldn't?"

Moving to the edge of the bed, Jason returned the sneer. "Fuck you, whore! You can't wait to bounce your hot ass all over this monster cock! Now, do yourself a favor and mount the fuck up so we can finish this and I can bust my load _all_ up in your hole!"

Dick could tell, on the outside, Jason was finished with their game but the way the man's dick continued to rear up toward his stomach told another story. He decided on a counteroffer. "How about you get down here and try and force that ridiculous horse-cock back into me. This time, use some finesse instead of just shoving it in."

"Fucking whore," Jason said, already getting on the bed.

"Worthless dog," Dick responded, spreading his legs wide. "Show me you can fuck better than you can dress yourself on your own – sloppy and tacky."

Reaching down between his legs, Jason gave himself a few healthy pulls to generate more precum. This coated Dick's hole before he slid back inside. His hand took hold of Dick's cock and he began moving it back and forth in counterpoint to his own hips. They were not playing this time. Now, he wanted what he wanted, regardless of his partner's demands.

"Don't..." Dick started, looking down at his trapped cock. "Don't, Jason...I mean it."

The other man's grin widened. "Don't what? Get you off?"

"Not before you...don't."

"What will you do? Pout?"

Speeding up his hand, Jason did the same for his hips. Soon, their rhythm matched the one before, frantic and fast. Dick rose up on his elbows, shaking his head and gasping. Jason's hand sped up. They glared at one another for a few moments before Jason spoke.

"You like it, you fucking whore. You like having your insides churned to silky fuck-butter by a man who knows how. Admit it!"

With his open palm, Dick slapped him, the sound echoing through the room. "Take your hand off me, you fucking _dog_!"

Capturing Dick's mouth with his own, Jason continued both his hips' fast pace and his hand's motion. The sting on his face added an amazing heat to his body, firing off all his pleasure centers at one time. His hips gyrated a few more times until his body seized. His back bowed in toward Dick, his head fell forward. His mouth fell away from the other man's but his forehead stayed pressed against him. Dick's hand held his neck. They both groaned against one another, their bodies reacting in much the same way. In his hand, Dick's cock spewed thick ropes of hot cum all over their stomachs while inside Dick's clenching ass, his own did the same.

"Fuck, Jason...fuck."

"I know," the other man gasped. "I'm amazing."

Turning his head, Dick kissed him hard. Jason's arm slid under him, bringing him in tight.

"So, the slap was new," Jason said, nuzzling the man's neck.

"Did you like it?"

"I didn't _not_ like it. The surprise of it was the best part. It was out of character for you but it made the _dog_ comment hotter."

"Should we keep it? The slapping, I mean."

"Could be fun, we'll see." Jason took Dick's face in his hands and kissed him.

Coming back to a sitting position on the bed, Jason adjusted Dick on his lap while he began another series of slow, easy kisses. Dick's hand roamed the man's back as they kissed. Their kisses lasted well into the night, driving away thoughts of doubt and reservation. By the time Jason was ready for a second round, Dick decided what they were going to do with Draco Malfoy.

***

After acting as though he were coming in for the first time, Tim took his time changing into the white suit, shirt, and tie. Across from him, Conner did the same while Peter set up his equipment. This involved changing the lighting, pulling down a white background, and rearranging some of the furnishings. During his maneuvering of things, he caught sight of Tim's lean body, as well as Conner's larger, more muscular one. Several ideas on how to conduct this shoot were racing in his mind but the thing distracting him most was the incessant hard-on he had. These two males could not be any more different from one another but they were an easy pairing in every way. It was sexy as hell.

Dressed, Tim moved over to stand in the center of the new backdrop. "Is this going to shoot well? White on white?"

Peter smiled. "No two whites are the same. Your suits are a very light shade of cream."

"Cream," Conner chuckled. "Sorry. Juvenile humor."

"As I was saying, your suits aren't pure white so they'll stand out. Just one thing, before we get started – are you sure you want to go through with this? Once these shots are done and watermarked, once you've sent them to the printer, you can't take them back."

Tim took his place in the center of the backdrop. "We know what we're doing. You can proceed whenever you're ready, Mr. Parker."

Beginning the shoot were professional pictures of Tim and Conner standing next to one another, each one worthy of a cover. As they progressed, Conner began to get more and more familiar with Tim, his hands roaming wherever they wished. Tim, ever the professional, kept his hands in more g-rated areas, even when Conner's left hand found its way down the back of his suit pants.

"Lose the jackets," Peter said, moving the tripod further back.

Conner was out of his, holding it over one shoulder the way many men in magazines did it. Tim was slower to respond, having a few shots of him still wearing his. Their individuality played well for these shots, as it captured his executive feel. At one point, Conner adjusted his glasses while Tim gave him a very questionable look. It would turn out to be the cover of their project and a shot Tim would have blown up and framed for his office.

Moving another camera into place, Peter indicated the area near the bank of tall windows on the right side of the area. "Move over near the windows, gentlemen. One last chance to back out."

Conner dropped his jacket onto the chair they were circling. "I don't think you know who you're talking to. Tim never backs out of anything, once he's set his mind to it."

"All right. You both know the narrative you agreed on so I'll be capturing how you see this playing out, according to what we've already talked about."

Tim began by standing in the center, his jacket discarded. Conner was on his knees, both arms around Tim's waist, his head resting on his lower stomach. Peter captured this from different angles, knowing how each would play out. Conner's hand moved lower, down along Tim's leg with Tim adding a hand to the back of Conner's head. These were powerful images portraying Tim as the more dominant of the two, with Conner giving a powerful portrayal of willing submissive. His lowered head contributed to their narrative.

The next pose was one of Conner, still on his knees, his legs spread as far as he could. His left hand rested on Tim's chest, his fingers splayed. Tim held to the back of his head, still, but this time in a more possessive way.

Next, Connor loosened his shirt so it could be pushed off of one shoulder, baring his neck and one arm. The shirt hung from the one hand still placed on Tim's chest. As per Peter's direction, he dipped his chin down, allowing Tim to move his hand up to the crown of Conner's head. He closed his fingers around the thick strands as though he were pulling at it.

Conner reared back so his face and shoulders were visible to the camera. Both arms were opened, his torso bent back, as well. The strain of his pants outlined his perfect curves, highlighting his firm ass. For the next shot, he removed his socks and shoes before resuming the same pose. Tim stood over him, a hand on his chest, looking into the camera.

"Ready?" Conner asked, getting to his feet for the next shot.

Tim nodded, already unbuttoning his pants. They slipped enough to show a hint of Conner's ample backside. Tim let a single finger rest in the beginning furrow. From Peter's viewpoint, Conner all but eclipsed Tim. In the next shot, the pants fell. Tim's hand held to the thick cheek.

"I am loving you so much, right now," Conner said, kissing Tim's forehead.

After getting out of his shirt, Tim stood chest to chest with Conner. "Likewise." They shared a short, tender kiss. "What do you think Clark is going to say about this?"

"Not much he _can_ say once they're in print, is there?"

"Still, you're going to have to talk to him about them. This will reflect on him, too."

"Clark and Conner Kent are two different people, regardless of what lab results say. He'll either support me in this or he won't. There's a reason we've kept this secret from everyone but us and Peter."

"Speaking of Peter, what's up with you and him?"

Conner worked Tim's pants loose then leaned in and began kissing along his neck until he reached his ear. "I know you saw us. I heard your heartbeat and the sound of your breathing." The pants fell. "He's not better or worse than you, just different. He does for me what I do for you."

The privacy of their conversation, the public location it was being had in, and the fact the person in question was taking pictures of them was an erotic combination for Tim. Conner's hands and words brought him to the tips of his toes.

"It was _so_ hot having you watch. It was so – _dirty_."

Tim smiled.

Conner lifted Tim into his arms. They nuzzled one another for a few minutes, allowing Peter to capture their different angles. Tim's hands moved along Conner's shoulders, down his back, and up along the inside of his torso.

They turned in midair, Conner's arms holding Tim to his chest. As they did, he drew his leg up alongside Tim's, pointing his foot toward Peter's lens. His other hand rounded over Tim's ass and squeezed hard enough to get a reaction. Against his lower stomach, he could feel Tim's hard shaft sliding alongside his own, rubbing him. Tim sighed in his arms, his smaller body tucked against his larger one.  

Conner took special care in his handling of Tim. He was able to turn the slender brunette so the front of his body was facing out. Conner slid both hands under his arms and down his stomach, holding him still. Peter paused, letting his camera down. He looked at Conner, who nodded, then to Tim, who looked...scared. Superboy brought them down to where Tim's raging hard-on was level with Peter's watering mouth. All he needed to do was—

"Open your mouth," Conner told him.

Tim felt another surge of pleasure course through him when he heard the decisive tone in Conner's voice. Peter did as he was told, bringing his tongue to the tip of Tim's leaking cock. Sliding it under the head, the photographer used this as a preamble to fit the whole thing into his mouth. A second soft sound from Tim encouraged him to swallow more. Tim's leg curling around his neck told him it was all right to take the entire thing. Conner kissed Tim's neck while playing with one of his nipples. Behind him, the full length of Conner's hard shaft rubbed along the crack of Tim's perfect ass. Conner leaned forward, nipping at the flesh of Tim's neck.

"Tell me to stop..." He whispered, easing his hips back.

"D-don't...not here..." Tim gasped.

"Tell me to stop," the broad-bodied hero repeated, letting his dick slide down the crack.

"It's too..."

Peter swallowed Tim's dick again, flexing his throat so it massaged the full shaft. He came forward until his nose was brushing the trimmed pubic hair. When he withdrew, he began to hum. Conner chose this moment to let the head and first few inches of his anxious dick slide into Tim's warm hole.

"Oh..."

Conner smiled. "You didn't tell me to stop."

A combination of regret and intense pleasure tore at Tim. Conner's hard dick did not stop until he felt the rough scrape of pubic hair against his ass. Peter was giving him one hell of a hummer and his balls were already tight against his body. The two males assaulting him were going to bring him to the brink in no time at all – maybe over it.

"Fuck," Tim said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I plan to," was the humorous response. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll pump your load into Peter's hot, willing mouth."

With a goal set, Conner started working his hips in a slow, easy circle. Peter caught on and adjusted his own speed to match. Tim had no choice but to hold tight to Conner's arms, bring his leg up over Peter's shoulder, and enjoy the ride.

The three of them worked against one another in the best way possible. Peter's hands roamed Tim's body as his mouth worked at a frantic pace. In time with Conner's insistent thrusting, he managed to keep Tim always on the verge of release. Neither he nor the hovering brunette let up on Tim, both determined to crack the stoic exterior. Peter teased both of Tim's nipples while Conner started delivering the full length of his shaft each time.

"Oh, man," Conner groaned, dropping his head to Tim's shoulder. "I can't...oh...man..."

"Do it," Tim groaned, cupping the other's cheek.

Tim pushed his hips forward, driving himself into Peter's mouth and gifting him with a warm, frothy reward for his amazing efforts. Conner drove himself into Tim and released, as well. Tim's head fell forward but he did not cry out or lose the sense of where he was and what he was there for. This might have been fun but there was an overall goal to their being here.

Peter leaned back, then brought his camera up to capture a lingering, gentle kiss. "You are both so hot," he said. "This book is going to be amazing." 

***

The interior of the _Stud Club_ was everything the name implied it would be. Metal columns, light-absorbing surfaces, and an air of danger permeated the place. None of this made any difference to the muscled blond in the leather pants, boots, and white cotton t-shirt. Pulling at his red suspenders, Tommy Terror walked onto the dance floor, aiming for the center. Once there, he began grinding his ample body up on two very large brunette males in leather. When they responded, he made his pitch.

"Tommy done need some brawlers like you for a little Christmas party crashin'."

The first male smiled, turning his body. "Maybe we can come to some kind of understanding, the two of us and you."

The second made a grab for the blond's meaty chest. Both of his hands were slapped away, making him do a double take.

"Tommy didn't say you could touch." The blond said. "Shame on you! You done been rude to Tommy after being asked all nice and polite to help Tommy out! After you say yes, you gotta 'pologize."

"Oh, yeah?" The man said, scoffing at the idea.

With little effort, the blond pulled the man forward, then pushed him to his knees. Helpless, the wide-eyed brunette watched as Tommy undid the front of his jeans. When he saw what Tommy unleashed, all he could do was gasp. "Sweet mercy!"

"You done been rude to the Tommy Dick, too." His meaty hand caressed the head, coaxing two thick drops from the slit. "See? It's crying, you done hurt it so bad. Best get to sayin' your sorries."

"Oh, I'm sorry, all right," the man said, his mouth drawing closer. "So very sorry!"

The other male dropped to his knees as others on the dance floor began shifting their attention. As the two men began administering to the blond's growing member, its owner put both hands behind his head and smiled at those watching.

"Anybody else wanna help out ol' Tommy, line up behind these two and submit your application!"

***

"Why so glum?"

_Chum_ , Dick finished in his mind. The exchange brought him back to his Robin days. "No reason."

"Don't lie to me," Draco insisted, slipping out of his sheer white robe. "I know from the scowl, something is bothering you, even if you are wearing a mask."

"The mask is the issue," Dick said.

"Here we go," Jason groaned, settling into one of the chairs across from the bed. "Before he starts, just understand, we've been going back and forth about this for the last two months, it's nothing new. Well, it's nothing very new. To us, I mean."

 Draco spread his arms as he moved toward the edge of the bed. "Would one of you tell me what is going on? Last night, you were distant and tonight, whatever it was has carried over. Is there some topic we need to discuss, the three of us?"

"We've been at this for a couple of months and I can't go forward with what I feel is a more serious sexual relationship with secrets between us." Dick looked to Jason, who picked up the narrative.

"What started out as a lark, pun intended, is what we want on a permanent basis, like we told you. Ever since then, we've been talking about telling you who we are under the masks."

Draco shook his head. "I don't think so. It's better this way, don't you think?"

"It means a lot for us to be honest with one another if this is going to turn into a full-on relationship, not just monthly hook-ups. Us letting you know who we are is our way of getting the trust ball rolling."

Draco nodded his understanding at what Jason said. "I've told you from the beginning, I don't want to know who you are under those masks. I know why you keep your identities secret."

"We told you we were here for the duration and this is how we prove it to you. Total honesty."

"Then I need to lead by example. Total honesty. I've been partnering with LexCorps due to some promises my father made to Lex before he handed me the American branch of _Malfoy Inc_. I did some creative bookkeeping but nothing illegal. Now, I'm continuing the partnership so I can keep an eye on Lex and what he's doing behind the scenes. When I  know more, I will be in a better position to protect my company.

"I've also been working as an informant for Interpol against my father and Lex. I have been working with agents Potter, Weasley, and Finnegan to take down both my father and Lex." He stood from the chair. "I've struck a deal with them to ensure my company, it's employees, and my mother are free from any charges."

"I'll bet you got a sweet immunity deal out of this," Jason snorted.

"The opposite, if I were being honest. I've given the agents all the information needed without any protection for myself. To my knowledge, I've not committed any crimes, except the tax issues and if I have, I will accept the punishment."

Both Jason and Dick fell silent.

"All right, you've convinced me," Draco sighed. "If it means so much for you to tell me who you are, then I won't stop you but before you do, consider what this means. You're trusting me with not just your secret but the secret of those around you. All of them. Young Justice, the Titans, even some members of your Justice League. If you don't think you can trust me, then we should keep things the way they are."

Dick and Jason looked at one another. As they had many other times before, they had a single conversation without saying a word. They both then looked back at Draco, then reached for their masks.  A raised hand from Draco stopped them. He smiled.

"I hate to ruin your big reveal but I know. Richard John Grayson and Jason Peter Todd stand to be revealed under those masks."

Jason's shock was almost a physical thing. "What? How did you know?"

"Simple. I caught myself admiring Dick in his civilian attire at a recent party. His ass is one-of-a-kind, if ever there were such a thing."

"What about me?"

Draco smirked. "It doesn't matter if they're in combat pants or $3000 slacks, your thighs are a work of art. I could identify them from a mile away whether you were being Red Hood or Mr. Todd."

***

Just before the actual holiday, Wayne Manor opened its doors to Gotham's Christmas crowd. The charity ball brought in all sorts of people from all over, not just from Gotham. In moments, the ballroom of the manor was a glittering array of what Cat Grant would later call _The Glitter Gods_. Among the first to arrive, Tim and Conner moved toward the first corner they could find. This was not easy since his _Attitude_ spread was on newsstands and on the Internet for everyone to see. Legitimizing their relationship had more than a few tongues moving.

Clark Kent arrived without anyone on his arm, a fact which did not go unnoticed by many women among the crowd. Getting through the crowd was more difficult than he realized, more than one person stopping to ask after his lack of accompaniment. When he reached his destination, Tim handed him a drink with a smile.

"Thank you. Nice to see the two of you."

Conner pushed up his stylish glasses. "Nice to be seen."

"I think it's wise for the two of you to reveal it was Conner Kent, not Superboy you were having the relationship with. It'll be easier on the two of you."

Tim nudged his date. "It was Conner's idea, one he had after the photoshoot with Mr. Parker."

"Having Miss Martian disguise herself as you and wish you well at the press conference was a nice touch, too." Clark raised his glass. "Smart choices, boys. Very smart."

Sometime later, Draco made a rather dramatic entrance in a silver-gray tuxedo and an emerald green vest and tie. Dick and Jason met him at the door, then lead him away to the table where they could all get a drink.

"I have some idea of who is who," the blond said, turning toward the gathered crowd. "I'm guessing our host, Mr. Wayne, is the Dark Knight, himself."

"We're not doing this," Dick said, shaking his head.

"Yes, we are," Draco told him. "Now, am I right about our host?"

"You know you are. You wouldn't have brought it up, otherwise."

"This would mean the strapping Mr. Kent is the Man of Steel." He nodded in their direction. "Making the younger Mr. Kent the celebrity crush of our Mr. Drake, Superboy."

"You're only wanting me to agree so you can gloat."

"What if I am?"

Dick let out a long sigh. "Just making an observation."

From the vantage point of the top of a staircase, Peter Parker snapped pictures of the guests, each one a wide shot of the ballroom, save the ones he took of Clark and Conner talking together and the few of Bruce and Tim standing near the champagne fountain.

"Having a good time?"

Conner's hand found the small of Peter's back, pressing through the fabric of his suit jacket. In the crowd below, he found Tim standing near a suit of armor. When they made eye contact, he smiled.

"It's a great party," Peter said, leaning against the banister. "Lots of interesting people here."

"I agree. Some more interesting than others."

"Like Mr. Drake?"

"You like Tim, too, don't you?"

"He doesn't like me back, not like he does you."

The hand on Peter's back slid lower. "You would be surprised at who Tim likes. He just thinks he has to keep it all to himself because of his position in the business world."

"He never lets loose?"

"Not the way you mean. He has other ways of letting loose.

Across the room, Tim made his way over to where Clark stood. "Do you have a minute or two to talk?"

After a sip of his champagne, the larger man gave Tim his full attention. "About your book? The one you and Conner shot with Mr. Parker? Or was there another issue you had in mind?"

"Right. You're a reporter."

"In the publishing world," Clark nodded. "Conner's naked, isn't he?"

"Very."

"He's not a child. I can't tell him, or you, what to do with your bodies."

"Are you angry?"

"I will be," Clark said, sipping his drink. "If my copy isn't signed and on my desk the day it's put out. I will be just as angry, if not more so, if I don't get my copy before Bruce gets his."

"Thank you, Mr. Kent."

"You're good for Conner, Tim. He's good for you." He nodded toward the balcony. "Seems Mr. Parker is good for the two of you."

"Thank you, Mr. Kent. I need to be up there with Bruce but I appreciate what you said."

Bruce walked to  the center of the room with Dick and Jason. Tim joined them. Conner leaned into Peter's back as the four men took the spotlight.  Dick and Jason stood on either side of Bruce. The room quieted as the man raised his hand.

"On behalf of Wayne Enterprises, I want to thank you all for coming and showing your support to the Gotham Initiative for the Homeless, this year's charity of choice. Your donations will make it possible to renovate key buildings along the waterfront and at the edge of what was once Crime Avenue. Thank you."

A round of applause went up. Draco moved toward the edge of the gathered crowd as Clark moved deeper into the throng, not wanting the attention.

"Tonight, I've chosen to unveil an exciting new venture we at Wayne Enterprises hopes will be what sets the trend for other companies in Gotham and the rest of the world. Our recent collaboration with Velvet Klein sparked a partnership between her fashion house and _WayneTech_ , thanks to Tim Drake, head of development and C.E.O. of this arm of _Wayne Enterprises_. Through this collaboration, doors were opened to the United Kingdom where we were met and welcomed by Draco Malfoy."

Another rousing bought of applause went up, prompting the blond to raise his glass in thanks to them all. A short fanfare was played by the orchestra.

"Along with _Malfoy Industries, Wayne Enterprises_ has acquired two new industries, fashion and social media. Mr. Malfoy will partner with Ms. Klein to serve as advisors for our fledgling company, _Wayne Media_ , to be headed by Mr. Richard Grayson."

"Richard...Grayson?" Tim asked, shocked. "Corporate life, Dick?"

Dick clapped a hand on Tim's shoulder. "It was always just a matter of time until we all joined the family business, little brother."

"Mr. Wayne, will Mr. Todd be joining _Wayne Enterprises_ in an official capacity?" Cat Grant asked, directing Jimmy Olsen's camera lens in Bruce's direction.

Dick spoke up. "In a way. You see, we have acquired _Attitude_ magazine and have prepared something very special as a way to announce this."

At the back of the room, Jacob hit a button on his phone. An enormous image appeared behind the four men at the center of the room. Gasps and other noises of surprise rose up. It was a mock cover featuring Tim in a white suit standing in the center, flanked by a naked Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. Tim's body covered their groins but the rest of their toned and fit bodies were on display for everyone. The caption along the bottom of the image read _Wayne Triple Treat_.

"Blimey," Draco said, gazing long at the image. "The last thing the Dog needs is to be any bigger."

From the balcony, Conner and Peter recognized the center figure of Tim. "I wonder what he's going to think about this."

While Dick made a short acceptance speech, Tim leaned in to Bruce. "How long has this been in the works and why didn't you tell me?"

"Draco's proposal came across my desk three months ago but was only just approved by the board. As for the latter question, I would have told you had you not been ducking me for the last several weeks. Did you think I would be angry about you and Conner? About the book?"

"I thought you would find a reason to be angry."

Bruce kept smiling for those in the room but there was disappointment in his voice. He put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "All I want for any of you is just to be happy. If Conner makes you happy, that's what matters. As for the book, I think it was a wise choice to make the public announcement of it being Conner Kent, not Superboy in those photos. There is a reason we keep our identities a secret."

"For the one thousandth time," Tim sighed. "I know this."

"I know you do. Still, good lessons bear repeating."

"You're such an old woman."

Whatever retort Bruce might have made was drowned out by applause. Dick was thanking the press while Jason was waving Draco forward from the crowd. Toward the back of the room, shadows closed over the two doors leading outside.

"Now, everyone," Bruce said, gathering their attention again. "In response to your generosity, I would like to welcome, from the faraway North Pole, the man with the bag, himself—"

Glass from both doors blew inward, causing many of the guests to flee forward toward where Bruce and the others were already reacting to the disturbance. Jason and Dick both pulled Draco behind them while Bruce did the same for Tim. Shouts and screams drowned out the orders given between them. At one point, Bruce stole a look at Clark, who was already moving toward the ballroom's exit. He would have gotten out were it not for the two brawny, half-naked men coming forward with strange rifles held at the ready. More men, also half naked, came in through the outside doors, matching rifles trained on the crowd, as a whole.

"Ever'body just needs to calm down – right now!"

The booming voice belonged to the bold figure striding through the ruined doors, glass crunching under his booted feet. He wore tight red pants that disappeared into the fur-trimmed boots and hid none of his hardened physique. Red suspenders stretched up and over his large bare chest. Tilted toward the back of his head, he even wore a jaunty red hat with white fur trim. As he strode through the stunned crowd, there was a distinct swagger to his walk, one which dared someone to stop him.

Very near the now-broken doors, Cat Grant and Jimmy Olsen were both catching the blond's entrance via their cell phone cameras. Each step he took was recorded for later online playback, _if we survived the encounter_ , Jimmy thought to himself.

"Ya'll need to stop all this shoutin' and hollerin'! It ain't gonna make no difference anyway! Tommy's still gonna take what Tommy came for!" The bold blond walked further into the room until he was several feet away from where Bruce stood with an arm in front of Tim. "Awww, now ain't that the sweetest thing you ever did see? Daddy Money protectin' the Baby Pretty."

From the balcony, Conner scoped out the six half-naked men, all in their early twenties, all in leather shorts, boots, and bondage masks. While hot, they still looked dangerous. Two other men in black thongs were making their way through the crowd, positioning themselves on the other side of the blond but still within the throng.

"Who is that?" Peter asked, looking between the draping and the banister. He wiped his mouth, thankful to have been doing what he was doing when the others broke in.

Conner whispered his response. "Tommy Terror. Stay where you are, out of sight. There is an exit to the back of the balcony, it'll take you to the parking lot. Get out of here and call the police, we don't know what Terror is here for."

"Caught this bloke before he could get out," one of the leather-clad henchmen said, leading Clark back inside with the end of his rifle. "Badge says _Press_ , it does."

Tommy turned his attentions toward the man in the dark suit. One meaty finger tapped the badge. "Tommy done pressed it – didn't do nothin'. Tommy thinks it might be broke."

Chuckles went up but not from Bruce and the others. Tim was already signaling the Young Justice team via his phone, using Bruce's protective stance for what it was – cover. Dick calculated four different ways they could exit the room but not without significant resistance. Jason identified the rifles and the smaller, more compact weapons.

"S.T.A.R. tech with a little bit of a kick," he said in a low voice. "One of those bitches could give Superman a hangover. I'd hate to see them all trained on him for a single blast."

"We do nothing until we have a clear shot at these guys. No one gets hurt because we were reckless," Dick said, his voice just as low. "Let's see what Tommy wants."

"Look at you, all puffed up and mad at Tommy!" Both large hands were pulling at the lapels on Clark's suit jacket. "You outta loosen up a little, not be so stuffy! In fact, let's get you out of this monkey suit!"

Clark raised an eyebrow and would have slapped the boy's hands away were it not for one of the henchmen taking a random member of the crowd and putting the handgun to their head. Tommy slid the coat from his shoulders and Clark shrugged it the rest of the way off.  The brutish boy yanked his bowtie loose and dropped it to the floor. The first button of Clark's crisp white shirt flew off with a flick of the boy's thumb and forefinger. The second and third pinged off the walls. Inches of pale flesh were revealed, covered in thick, dark hair.

"Mr. Press is a Wolf under this monkey suit, ya'll!" Tommy called to the crowd as he bared the reporter's flesh. "A big, bad, Daddy Wolf just waitin' to huff and puff...and blow the Tommy Dick down!" The boy grabbed his crotch and tugged on the bulge. "Step out them shoes, Daddy Wolf. Socks, too. Tommy's gonna learn you some manners!"

On the balcony, Conner made himself as large as he could to cover Peter's exit. While he was puffing his body up, he watched as Clark did as he was told. When his bare feet touched the floor, Tommy reached for the man's last remaining article of clothing – his pants. The fastening was torn from the fabric, the metal button pinging off the wall. Tommy tore the zipper and the slender panel of fabric away, but still the pants clung to Clark's trim hips. Conner swallowed, turning away to find Tim.

"Alfred is clear," Tim told Bruce. "He's activated the security system for the grounds."

"Clark is buying time but we haven't got much of it."

"Look, ya'll – Daddy Wolf is a briefs man!" Tommy shouted, holding the remains of Clark's pants in one hand. Clad in just a pair of tight, dark blue briefs, the reporter pushed his glasses up but said nothing. "Fills 'em out real good, too!"

Still Clark said nothing, not wanting to give the boy the pleasure of a response.

"Tommy was readin' all 'bout the Baby Pretty who took all his clothes off for the world to see and Tommy wants the Baby Pretty for himself. Go on and get what Tommy came for, Daddy Wolf."

Clark was shoved several steps forward toward Bruce, who still stood in front of Tim. He and Bruce exchanged a silent dialogue seconds before the billionaire swung at him. Had Clark not feigned the impact, it would have shattered the man's hand. Impacting hard enough to be believable, Clark did not move once his body fell.

"Damn!" Tommy exclaimed, coming forward, himself. "Daddy Money is a boss!" Henchmen laughed as the blond strode forward, his hands at his sides. "Step aside, rich Daddy. Tommy don't want to hurt nobody. Tommy's just here for the Baby Pretty, the Rich Pretty, and maybe a little money 'fore gettin' out of here."

Seconds before Bruce was shoved aside, Conner realized who Tommy was referring to. He thought, at first, to jump over the railing but revealing himself in front of all of these people was not an option. Tim's gaze was now on Tommy, as was Draco Malfoy's but in an all together different way. Tim was curious, Draco was furious. It became much worse when Tommy took Draco's face in his hand.

"Rich Pretty's gonna be comin' along with Tommy, too! Boys!" From the crowd, the two men in leather thongs pointed their weapons at their targets. Tommy leaned forward and kissed Draco hard on the lips before stepping back. "Bag him up!"

A surge of blue energy shot from one of the handguns. It engulfed Draco in a bright white field, then seemed to fold his body into the very air. A second blue flash and he was gone. Dick and Jason would have leapt forward were it not for Tommy's loud applause. He turned on them, fixing them with an unexpected wink and a strange smile. Next, he turned toward Tim.

"Baby Pretty," he said, caressing Tim's chin. "You so damned handsome, Tommy's just gotta have you all for himself! Ain't gonna need all this, though." He untied the bowtie, then dropped it to the floor. "Where you and Tommy is going, all you gonna need is a whole lot of giddy-up power! You and Tommy's gonna be doin' some hard ridin'."

Tim felt cool air on his bare chest as Tommy tore the front of his shirt open. Buttons flew in all directions. The brute's mouth grazed his and instead of revulsion, he felt an odd sensation very much like pleasure. From the balcony, he felt Conner's eyes on him but he did not dare look back. Tommy's hand was inside his shirt, squeezing his pec, thumbing his nipple. The strange kiss was going through his whole body, spiking into his groin.

"Damn, Pretty, you done kiss good!" Tommy stepped back with a grin. "Bag him, boys!"

Another surge of blue energy and Tim was gone. Dick flinched, as did Bruce and Jason. On the balcony, Conner tore the hanging drapery with just his fingers. Tommy walked over to where Bruce feigned privileged indignation. He opened the man's jacket and withdrew his wallet. Instead of opening it to inspect its contents, he slid the slender fold into the front of his tight red pants.

"Want it back, Daddy Money? You gotta come get it." Tommy stepped back, swiveled his hips, then framed his sizable manhood with both hands. "You come get it...and Tommy's boys don't start shootin' up the place and killin' folk!"

Bruce's lip curled. "Where did you take them?"

"Don't you worry none 'bout the Pretties. They're safe. You need to worry 'bout all these rich folk here 'bout to get they heads blowed right off! Tommy said – come get your money."

The first step caused the blond to raise a hand. Bruce felt the muscles in his face constrict. Beside him, Dick was clenching and unclenching his hand. Jason was all hard expressions and tense muscle. Overhead, Conner was making his way to the back of the balcony to the stairs. It was hard for him to breath, even harder to concentrate. It would do none of them any good for him to be discovered among the guests, it might even get Tim hurt if Tommy knew. Hurt, or worse.

"Ain't gonna get nothing on your feet, Daddy Money. You gonna crawl for Tommy – nice and slow-like. Oh – and you're gonna do it without your monkey suit on."

"Fuck," Jason swore, shaking his head.

Inside, both he and Dick were coming apart. There was no way to leave and pursue Draco, even if they had any idea where he might be. Jason glanced at Dick, then toward the two inside exits. The outside doors, their frames damaged and the glass gone, gave Dick a very strange idea. He moved  at a slow pace toward Jason while everyone in the room watched Bruce Wayne drop his shirt to the floor and step out of his expensive shoes and socks. Tommy's eyes were on Bruce, as well.

"I think I know of a way to find Draco and Tim," Dick said in a low voice. "Be still."

Jason felt a jolt against his back as Dick's hand slid into the waist of his pants. "Now isn't the time for your kinky bullshit, Grayson!" Jason hissed.

"Go easy, Jason. Relax and trust me."

It took some doing but Dick was able to loosen the vibrating ring from around Jason's cock. Getting it out was another matter but Bruce coming out of his pants provided him with cover. Once the ring was free, Dick took out his cell and punched in a code. Jason looked over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Draco had these devices synced up to the 'Net and was controlling them with a remote device on his wrist. He still had it when he was taken, which means we can reverse track the signal from the toy to the device and find out where he is."

"Why didn't you use your own toy?"

"Because I'm not wearing mine," he answered. "Draco gave me something else to wear tonight. Can we talk about that later, Ace?"

Bruce was down to his briefs, an expensive pair of cotton Calvin Klein made just for him. They hugged every curve of his body, even the abnormal bulge in the front. The henchmen were already herding people out of the ballroom, instructing them, as they left, to place their valuable jewelry into a bag while their electronic devices went into another. It was an easy way to empty out the space and fleece the guests as they did. Tommy gave Bruce an appreciative once-over as he put both hands on his trim hips. The top of Bruce's wallet was held tight against his lower stomach, which Tommy flexed for emphasis. When Bruce's eyes fell on it, the blond chuckled.

"Ain't about no money, is it, Daddy? It's about havin' it took from you while your fancy friends watched. Look at you, all bow-backed and staring knives at Tommy!" Another chuckle. "You gonna come get your wallet now, Daddy Money. If'n you don't, Tommy's boys are gonna start shooting up the place!"

Bruce took a step toward the blond but a raised hand stopped him. "What now?"

Tommy held the bulge in his pants. "On your knees, Daddy Money. Tommy's gonna need to see you crawl, nice and slow. Raise that sweet ass up high so's my boys can get a nice show, too."

Jason's mouth fell open as Bruce got to his knees. Instead of slumping forward, planting himself on the floor, the man remained stiff-armed, stiff-legged, his back flat, his head high. His first few paces were slow, like the giant walking machines in the sci-fi movie Jason loved. Because of the shape his body was in, Bruce's every move was like muscular poetry, a fact which confused Jason. He leaned in toward Dick, who was watching the same spectacle.

"Is it wrong to be turned on, right now?"

Dick nodded. "Yes. Very wrong. In fact, when we find Draco, we need to tell him how wrong we both were and be punished."

The remaining guests who witnessed Bruce's slow-crawl toward the blond were a mix of men and women, all of them stunned at what they saw. Last to leave the room, Jacob Abernathy lingered in the doorway. After dropping a watch in one bag and his phone in the other, he turned toward Tommy.

"Don't hurt him," Jacob asked, his tone almost pleading.

"Why would I hurt him? Daddy Money just wants his wallet back and Tommy just wants a little prep-time before he gets to the Pretties." He took hold of Bruce's head and pressed it into his crotch. "Less you want to take his place, little pretty."

"I will! Just please...don't hurt him."

As Jacob was walking back into the ballroom, Conner was moving toward one of the exits, careful not to be seen. Due to his large size, stealth was difficult but he managed to slip by the two men now standing guard over the guests held in the side parlor. Behind him, he heard Jacob pleading his case for why he should take Bruce's place. He recognized the tactic, even if Tommy did not. Jacob was stalling Tommy so the others could do what they were best at – _but how did he know to do this_ , Conner wondered.

Slipping free of the door leading to the back lawn, the muscled powerhouse was just in time to witness two more leather-clad henchmen giving chase to a lean, wiry brunette. Conner was amazed to see Peter Parker leap over one of the smaller cars, then sprint forward toward the gates of the parking area. The henchmen, however, were faster with their weapons. A crackling surge of blue energy took hold of Peter and folded him into nothingness.

Conner was left staring into the open space Peter once occupied while the henchmen congratulated themselves. Panic rose up in his chest, then into his throat, threatening to choke him. Clark was lying on the floor, pretending to be unconscious for the sake of the others, Dick and Jason were doing...what Nightwing and Red Hood did while in civilian gear. Superboy, however, was long away from Conner Kent in his moment. He could not think with a clear head, all that kept coming back to him was, _Tim is gone. Peter is gone_. These thoughts made the panic worse.

Inside the ballroom, Tommy stepped over Bruce, and walked back toward the broken doors. The henchmen gathered around him, their bags of stolen loot in their hands.

"Time for Tommy to get to his Pretties! Tommy didn't know there was gonna be _two_ of 'em so the Tommy Dick is extra excited for playtime! Daddy Money, you see to Daddy Wolf, make sure you didn't punch him too hard! By the way, Tommy is gonna take good care of the Pretties and while they're gone now, they'll be back for the New Year! How well they can dance at your fancy party is gonna be a whole other story!"

Tommy and the others touched small studs on their clothes, then. In a brilliant flash of light, they were gone. Left behind, now scattered all over the floor, were the valuables and cell phones collected in the bags. A faint trace of ozone was also left behind.

"Mr. Wayne," Jacob said, trying to help Bruce to his feet. "Alfred has contacted the police, they're on their way. Are you all right?"

"I will be," Bruce said, seeing Clark getting to his feet at the same time. "Anyone know what just happened, aside from the obvious?"

Dick spoke up. "Tommy just kidnapped Tim and Draco Malfoy – and took them to an old nightclub...on the edge of Metropolis."

"How do you know where they are?" Bruce asked.

"How isn't important," he said, slipping the cockring into his pocket. "What's important is, we need to get them back – thirty minutes ago!"

"I'm with him! We need to be cracking skulls and getting them back!"

"They have Peter, too!" Conner said, coming back into the room. "We have to get them all back!"

"Tim tried calling the others but I'm guessing those tech devices the Village People rejects were fucking around with were jamming the outbound signal." Jason clenched his fist. "Why don't you guys get _dressed_ and follow us! We're getting our friends back – now."

Bruce hesitated. "Go on ahead. We'll contact our _other_ friends and meet you in Metropolis when we've sorted out these people here."

Clark pulled on his pants. "Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment here. You'll need a clear head to deal with Tommy Terror and his boys."

Dick was already walking toward the ruined doors. Jason was stalking behind him, his heavy footfalls like thunder. Conner fell into step alongside them, as well. All three of them were much more hysterical on the inside than their exteriors would portray. Now, with people they cared about in potential danger, the stakes were raised. Tim had been kidnapped before but for Conner, this was different. _Tommy could do real damage to him and Peter_ , he thought.

"No quarter, guys," Dick said, leading the others.

"Not this time," Conner agreed, already pulling on his suit to get it off.

"This time, Terror has fucked with the wrong people!" Jason said. "It's on now, you muscle-bound, in-bred freak! It's fucking ON!"

***


End file.
